


Crown of Scorn

by jotunblood



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Come Eating, Complete, Concordance of Fealty, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, F/M, Facial Shaving, Family Drama, Fingerfucking, First Time, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Finn, Gift Giving, Hand Jobs, Hopeful Ending, Imprisonment, Intimidation, Jews In Space, Kissing, Knifeplay, Kylo Ren Redemption, Light Angst, Minor Injuries, Minor Original Character(s), Mother-Son Relationship, Negotiations, Past Relationship(s), Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Slow Burn, Sparring, That's Not How The Force Works, Touching, Trust Kink, Virgin Rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:51:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 117,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jotunblood/pseuds/jotunblood
Summary: In which Kylo goes missing, and Rey goes out on a limb.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first chaptered fic in a literal age, as well as my first ever one for Star Wars. Double whammy. 
> 
> Full disclosure: I do not have all of this written yet. I do, however, have 10 chapters outlined, which should help speed the process along. As always, feedback is appreciated. Let me know what you think. I'm looking forward to hearing it, and seeing how the story goes. I'm having a killer time writing it so far.

Kylo had inherited, among others, a valuable Skywalker family trait. Even years out of practice, he was very good at going missing.

Barely a month had passed since Snoke’s death and the battle of Crait, but the Order had already recuperated well. Better than, in fact, which Ren attributed largely to General Hux. The man was nothing if not adaptable. He’d delegated, restructured, parleyed; most impressively, he’d kept Kylo’s head on his shoulders. Literally. It wasn’t uncommon for figureheads to be overthrown in times like these. The history of the galaxy was smeared with the blood of unfortunate kings and senators; had the General wished, it would’ve been simple enough to ensure Ren was one of them. 

Hux hadn’t, though. Despite their bickering, he and Kylo worked well together. They both knew it, and the General had done everything in his power to ensure a smooth transition. And it had gone exceedingly well. The Order remained strong, blossoming under the care of its officials, and the Resistance was a wounded thing. Not beaten, but undeniably limping. The tide had turned in the Order’s favor, in Kylo’s favor. It was what he’d dreamed of for years. His life, after a series of seemingly endless missteps, was finally falling into place. 

None of this explained why he left. Even now, with days in the belly of space under his belt, Kylo didn’t have a good answer. 

It wasn’t an escape, because Kylo Ren was not a prisoner. He was bound only in the abstract way leaders are: strapped for time between meetings and debriefings, too figuratively tied to wriggle free. Besides, no one forced him to come back. That was something he’d chosen. He also hadn’t planned it, this disappearing act. In retrospect, it was the most spontaneous thing he’d done in years. 

The desire wormed its way in one morning as Ren ran through his routine. He’d slept terribly the night before, and as he bounced between droning meetings and weapons demonstrations he thought of the dream that had disrupted his sleep cycle. It’d been dark, peppered with tiny lights zipping passed on all sides. Not unlike the view from the cockpit of a ship, only there was no ship. There was only Kylo, pinned to the backdrop of space as planets and stars whizzed by. They were running from something, or parading ahead of it, something bodiless rocketing through the void. He felt it gaining speed, the swell of its energy branch out to meet him. It was green and unbalanced and suffocating, like a plant growing wild. If it reached Kylo, it would swallow him whole.

He’d woken from it suddenly, uneasy and too alert to fall back asleep. What did it mean? Did it have meaning at all? Kylo wasn’t sure, but he devoted the rest of his day to it. He appeared at the meetings, reviewed new training programs, but in his mind he turned the dream over like a pebble. He thought of flight, the allure of black, open space, the familiar off-kilter otherness reaching out, nearly close enough to touch.

Kylo let the memory of that warm, careening energy wash over him. It was a poor imitation of the original which, until the night before, he hadn’t felt since he and Rey were together. Her stamp was too distinct to forget so quickly. So, their bond hadn’t been severed. That was surprising, but the fact alone meant little. Rey was projecting, yes, but it was likely unintentional. There was no message in the dream, no images to decode. It was nothing more than a blind reach, and for what? The question knocked against his teeth all morning, and so did thoughts of the docking bay. 

Kylo, he realized midday, wanted a ship. 

The desire solidified, developing as the day dragged on. If it was a ship he wanted, he could just take one. No one, apart from perhaps General Hux, would question it. The dock hands wouldn’t bat an eye. No one would arm the light shield to keep him inside. But then, where would he say he was going? And why? He didn’t know that himself. So he bided time. He finished out the day, returning to his room shortly before Lights Out, making sure to be seen going in. He packed a satchel-- a spare set of clothes, his sabre, an ancient boot knife--, waited a few hours for the ship to settle into the Night Cycle, then slipped out of his room again.

Half a day, barely twelve hours stood between the impulse and the action, and wasn’t that typical? It was something Luke used to say about him: _reckless, hasty boy_. The old man had been right. Decades of training had done nothing to curb the disposition.

Once into motion, the game ended quickly. Getting to the docks was no challenge at all. It was fourth watch by the time Kylo set out, and patrol was sparse. The few still awake were techs, and they were a notoriously tenacious group. They fiddled with wiring and droids and other little machines, too preoccupied to notice a single man. He walked between them unnoticed, slipping into the dark docks without turning a single head. Those were entirely deserted; Kylo hadn’t doubted they would be. Unless they were actively at war, no one ventured here between Lights Out and breakfast. 

Several single passenger ships were on the dock that night, left by tired techs and pilots. He chose one still equipped with a bedroll and rations, thankful that whoever was meant to clean it neglected their duty. Once aboard, commandeering it was only a matter of circumventing the ship’s locking system. This also presented no problem. As the newly appointed Supreme Leader, there wasn’t much his code couldn’t override. He jabbed the keypad, disabling trackers and bringing the larger control panel to life. In minutes he was lifting off, passing through the humming light shield at the end of the docks. If that tripped any unexpected alarms, it wasn’t until Kylo was well out of range.

That had been five days ago if his timekeeping was correct, and despite his stealth, General Hux had certainly noticed his absence by now.

 _Thoughtless_ , Luke also used to say, _needlessly cruel_. It had been cruel, Kylo thought, not to tell Hux he was leaving. Especially now that the power balance between them had dramatically shifted. Especially since, though Kylo had generally been accepted as leader, these were still delicate times. When Ren missed enough meetings for Hux to begin tearing the ship apart, what would the General think had happened? What unfortunate underling would Armitage blame?

Kylo’s fist clenched around the helm, its rubber grips tacky against his skin. There was no use in wondering. No point to it. The General was neither a weak or unfair man, and would manage until… well. 

Hux would manage for now.

 

 

The next several days passed in a blur. This vessel was an older model with no built-in light gradient, and without it there was no delineating night and day. Unaware of how accustomed he’d grown to the luxury, Kylo suffered for it. He could manage a few hours of sleep at a time if he left the ship on auto, but it wasn’t deep sleep, or particularly restful. He dreamed again and again of being pinned, of Rey’s directionless energy dredging the galaxy. He often woke more exhausted than before, too tired to even muster an appetite. Still, he gnawed on stale ration bars between sleeps. Starving himself would only heighten his fatigue, and besides: there wasn’t much else to do. 

He wasn’t alert enough to meditate or exercise, and he’d only packed essentials. There were no books, no pen or paper. The previous pilot hadn’t even left a holovid for him to play mindlessly on loop. He spent most of his time in the cockpit, navigating between belts of debris and distant, shadowy planets, measuring his journey by the moons he recognized. The view was monotonous and the living conditions, even by his ascetic standards, were subpar. But it was quiet, breathtakingly so. Where apart from this tiny ship had Kylo ever heard such silence?

Ren hadn’t been truly alone in decades. As a child there had been his family and a rotating horde of resistance fighters. In the Falcon or whatever hole served as base that week, there was a wealth of activity: bodies smeared with sweat and blood brushing everything, everyone; people yelling orders, taking orders, arguing. Then there’d been Luke and his doe-eyed students. No private rooms, no moment free of their Master’s stubborn adherence to the old ways. The Knights of Ren quickly followed, who entered Kylo’s thoughts so often then that it was difficult to know where his own mind ended and theirs began. Hux and his well-oiled crew, though the newest of Ren’s unwilling mates, were no different. They filled the entirety of his waking moments with their breath and heat, the cacophony of their thoughts. 

Even in the precious few moments Kylo might have found escape, Snoke had been careful to intervene. When he meditated and slept, even when he showered, the former Supreme Leader reached out. The strength of the connection varied, but whether it was a whisper or full-bodied projection, the result was the same. Ren learned to live on the edge of a knife, because even when all else fell away, Snoke’s ghoulish presence could go raking through his mind at any moment.

To be here, alive and alone in his own head, was exhilarating. If he wasn’t so damn tired, he might weep.

But this wasn’t sustainable. Kylo knew that before leaving the docks. The rations would last at best two more weeks. He needed to make port soon, but didn’t like his chances for anonymity. The ship had surely been reported stolen, and landing it anywhere with a First Order base would raise immediate alarm. Beyond that, Kylo’s reputation preceded him. Hux’s first priority, once he’d recovered from the shock, had been to promote Kylo’s position as the new Supreme Leader; the more military support Ren had, the General assured, the more stable his position would be. As a result, Kylo’s face had all but been plastered across the galaxy. It would be impossible to hide in an Order-sympathetic crowd, especially if news of his disappearance had already begun to spread. 

The next best option was to land on some backwater planet. He could bring the ship down a few miles out of town, hike for supplies and hope the ship wasn’t stolen in the intervening time. But that would require money or something worth bartering. He had neither. He’d never needed them. 

Kylo rubbed the bruising beneath his eyes and swiveled the pilot seat, taking in the sight of his uncomfortable home. The nook where he kept his bedroll was dark and strewn with ration bar wrappers. Even from the cockpit he could smell the sickly sweet night sweat on the mat, but that could also have been the robes he wore. The few clothes he’d brought were quickly growing stale.

The rest of the ship looked no better. His rucksack, gloves, cloak, and shoes were scattered across the floor. Nothing belonged anywhere. This ship was meant for short term travel; there were no closets or desks to stuff any of it in. Kylo had always been tidy, even as a child, and looking at the mess made his teeth ache. It was a living thing, a monument to poor planning, and between it and the yawning void of space he felt trapped.

What in the name of the Maker had he been thinking?

 

 

He was awake, if only just, the next time he felt it.

Flat on the bedroll, skin prickling from the trapped heat wasn’t the most meditative position, so he almost didn’t trust it. He’d been sleeping terribly for over a week now; it could just have easily been a series of fatigued hallucinations. Discernment was the first lesson Luke taught him, and one of the few Kylo still held with. If there was an equally possible mundane explanation, it was more often than not a mundane experience.

That said, it quickly became evident that this was not currently the case.

A warmth, deep and grassy and clean, swept through Ren where he lay. It crept up his arms, curled through the halls of his chest and throat, settling like fog in his skull. It didn’t add to the discomfort of the overheated nook; rather, it seemed to drive it away, or at least distract from it. Was this it, then? Had he finally exhausted himself to the point of collapse? If so it wasn’t unpleasant, and if it bought him a single, decent sleep he might be able to come up with a plan for restocking his ship. 

Settling deeper into the bedroll, Kylo breathed in the heady heat and released it with a groan; as if on cue, or-- more appropriately, Ren thought seconds later-- he had been heard, the peaceful lull of the energy fell away. It hovered still, but tightened, shrinking in and around him. It brightened in its awareness of him, filled him with an anxious, expectant buzz. That was when he recognized it.

He opened his eyes, glancing around the ship. Alone, of course he was, but he’d needed to be sure. Rey was powerful; he wouldn’t have been surprised to see a shimmer of her crouched in the cockpit. But he didn’t. He was alone with his clutter and the flowering, tripping energy Rey had tossed out like line ahead of her.

“Rey?”

Her presence fell back at the sound of his voice. He didn’t blame her. It was hoarse, cracking from disuse. Without even a droid to bark at, Kylo hadn’t had a reason to speak in days. He took a pull from the water jug in the corner of his nook before trying again.

“Rey,” he whispered again, hoping to draw her in again. “Can you hear me?”

She didn’t answer. It was, in her defense, a leading question. If she couldn’t, she wouldn’t have reacted to begin with. Stillness settled in the ship again. Rey’s energy didn’t retreat, but it gathered tight. The gentle heat of it was gone entirely, replaced with the familiar excitable blaze. Kylo cursed himself for not recognizing it immediately. If he had, there would’ve been more time to plan how best to approach her. 

_What are you doing?_

Her voice was crisp and waspish, so clear she might have been pressed against his ear. It bounded through his head like many before hers-- Luke’s other students, his fellow Knights, Snoke-- and he sought too late to suppress a shudder. Empty: he had been devastatingly empty. How could he forget so quickly what it was like to be filled?

“I was sleeping,” he continued aloud, hoping the tease would cover his lapse in self-control. 

_Don’t play stupid. You’re moving. I feel it._

Kylo fingered the hem of his discarded robe, considering his answer. Had she been invading his dreams intentionally? What had she been looking for if she had?

“You realized the bond wasn’t severed, then. How long have you known?”

 _Does it matter?_ She paused long enough for Kylo to think no, not really. _You’re dodging the question._

He was, though probably not for the reason she suspected. He could keep at it, pace until she gave up. Given the circumstances, it would be the wisest decision. It occured to Kylo then that he might have been baited. If Rey had known the bond remained, she would’ve had to at least entertain the possibility that he’d sense her reaching out. They’d parted violently, but before that, before she set herself against him-- 

Kylo thought of firelight moving across her skin, hollowing and hallowing her like an effigy. He thought of her buzzing, wild energy that lapped his skin when she came close, how her hand felt, how her chest heaved as she gasped for breath in battle.

He chewed his tongue, willing his dry mouth to water. She must have sensed it. Whatever it was; Ren wasn’t quite sure himself. He’d been drawn to her, yes, more than a little mesmerized. It could have been a side effect of the bond, or of her potent energy. Power like hers was an intoxicant for many reasons, and Kylo didn’t pretend to understand what his had been. There hadn’t been enough time to piece it out then, and it hardly mattered after. Now, however, it was an exploitable resource, a way to coax the enemy out into open water. Why wouldn’t she weaponize it? It was what he would have done. But that was where the scene broke. Rey wasn’t like him, not as much as he’d hoped. There were too many soft, hidden places left in her; she wouldn’t be so intentionally cruel.

Rey’s energy pulsed, its white noise hum spiking. Ren could feel it in his fingers now. He’d spent too long thinking.

“I’m piloting a single passenger,” he admitted finally. “I’ve been in flight roughly nine days, and am in need of a port. Desperately.” 

His honesty surprised him, and Rey as well. A line of tension in her mass snapped and some of the mounting heat banked, smoking out in curious curls. Did she know how nearly corporeal she was? Kylo could almost see her brows knitting. 

_So land_ , she scoffed. _Give one of your ambassadors the honor of supplying their new Supreme Leader_. 

Ren grimaced; the title was acidic on her tongue. “I can’t.”

_Too pressed for time these days?_

She was mocking him, but he felt her focus sharpen all the same. It drilled precisely between his eyes; that was new, but he didn’t fight her. She wasn’t a snoop. When she found what she wanted she’d back away. She wasn’t, he reminded himself, very much like him at all.

As expected, she retreated seconds later. Her hum was lower, muted-- wary? It was hard to tell. Kylo was bone-weary.

 _This is a stolen ship_ , she breathed, conspiratorial. _They don’t know you’ve gone_.

“Didn’t know,” he corrected. “General Hux, at least, is bound to have noticed by now.”

_Why?_

“Meetings. I can’t miss one without--”

 _No_ , she interrupted, sounding pressed again. _Why did you steal it?_

“They wouldn’t have given it to me if I asked.”

_You’re their leader._

“The reason would have sounded...odd.” Suspicious would’ve been more accurate, but Kylo censored himself. He was entering murky territory. “The docking crew would’ve alerted General Hux; he’d have found some reason to detain me. Come up with something urgent for me to attend to.”

Rey was silent for a long minute. If it weren’t for the occasional uptick in energy, Kylo might’ve thought she’d left. When she finally spoke again, she was as delicate as Kylo had been.

_What’s so important that you have to lie to your top adviser?_

Her passivity was badly affected. Rey’s buzzing energy betrayed her. Kylo felt it swelling, reaching. There was something she wanted him to say. 

“I felt it,” he said, slowly, cautiously. “Weeks ago, now. I felt you. It was almost--” Ren bit his tongue and redirected. “I won’t pretend to understand why you did it. I don’t know.” He imagined Rey on the ship with him, crouching bodily where the bulk of her energy hovered. “What I do know is that this ship needs to land. Soon.”

Whatever Rey hoped for, Kylo clearly hadn’t provided. Heat flooded the nook again, the easy pace of her circuit gaining on itself alarmingly. It swarmed the small ship, spinning frantic circles around the spot where moments ago he’d imagined her sitting.

 _You’re lying_ , she spat, voice cold again. _To think I almost-- but what should I expect?_

“Rey--”

_No!_

The yell rang shrilly in Kylo’s ear; he managed to school a flinch, but only just. Not for the first time, he wished he had a better understanding of Rey’s power, her limits. What could she do in a moment of anger? He didn’t want to find out here.

 _It’s a trick_ , she continued. _Need somewhere to land? Should I offer a place? How stupid do you think I am?_

“This is a single passenger ship,” Kylo repeated. “I’m the only one in here, you have to sense it.”

_The Order only has one ship now, do they?_

Kylo didn’t respond. He had no counter. She was right, of course. He could have had an entire fleet at his back. It was something he would do.

Her energy swelled one furious, final time. Kylo flattened against the wall at his back, drawing in air far too hot. It burned his tongue and the back of his throat. He thought of his dream, how all-consuming Rey’s energy felt in it. Would he die here, dirty and alone, swallowed up like a fly in the wet mouth of a carnivorous plant?

She retreated suddenly, withdrawing from the nook first, then the ship; she took the warmth with her.

 

 

His store of ration bars was running dangerously low, as was the water. Kylo would need to land in three days whether he had a plan or not. 

In the week since she manifested on the ship, Rey hadn’t sought him out once, not even in his sleep. He’d felt her in flashes since, but that was his own instigation. Before each sleep cycle he centered himself, ignoring exhaustion and growing hunger, and sent his energy out. He combed the blackness for her, any sign of her green growing brightness. If he caught it, he didn’t waste time.

“Rey?” 

She’d tighten instantly, her mind clamping shut against him. Whatever he said next was of no consequence. She either didn’t hear it, or ignored it.

It didn’t deter him. Disastrous as it had been, Rey’s time on the ship was the most excitement Kylo had had since he’d stolen it. The novelty of solitude was wearing thin, and hearing another voice had been a balm he hadn’t known he’d needed. So he tried again. And again. Each night he reached out to her, called her name, said whatever he could think of until the connection fizzled out or he fell asleep where he lay. It was pathetic, degrading even, but he doubted her opinion of him could sink any lower. Besides, who could she tell? He doubted the Resistance would be happy to hear that she’d contacted him.

It became a new routine, something to break the monotony of flight. Not exactly a pleasant arrangement, but comfortable enough to fall asleep to. Predictable. So much so that when Rey spoke again, it was nearly irritating.

_Aren’t you out of food yet?_

Ren jolted, sitting up to scan the room for intruders. It was an old habit, utterly useless here. His ship was careening through space still. No one could have boarded without his permission.

“Nearly,” he hissed, laying back once more. Damn. He’d almost been asleep.

 _Don’t sound so put out_ , Rey said. _I’m sure an Order base will be happy to see you._

Kylo didn’t rise to the jab. He focused on the cool mat at his back, the contrast it made with Rey’s energy hovering a few feet from his nook. It was several minutes before he spoke again.

“You really wouldn’t let me?” he asked.

_What?_

“If I changed my mind.” Kylo reached for his cloak, thumbing the well worn hood. It was thick, safe, oppressive. “If I wanted to join you.”

He didn’t need to turn to see that her hazy mass had moved closer. He felt it now in the opening of the nook, its hum melodic despite its many nervous irregularities.

_Do you?_

Her voice was strained, almost hopeful. He shouldn’t have said it.

“I don’t know.” 

She sank beside him, deflating, but he felt her honing in. Her focus was neat, penetrating as it had been when she’d last visited. He didn’t bother masking his thoughts. There was no point; he hadn’t lied.

_I can’t help you if I don’t know I can trust you._

Kylo kept thumbing his cloak. He could plead his case, appeal to her mercy, but it would make no difference. Even if she could be moved, it would have to be brought before the Resistance leaders. He closed his eyes, imagining a circle of their stony faces.

He didn’t have the time or luck for that.

 

 

He must have fallen asleep, because some time later Rey’s voice startled him awake.

_Ben, can you hear me?_

The name snagged on something in his chest. It was still strange to hear it. “Yes.”

A pause followed, so long that Kylo thought he might have dreamt the voice. He was beginning to drift off again when it finally returned.

_Belsavis._

The weariness he’d been fighting fell back. Surely not. “What about it?”

 _It’s where we are. I--_ another pause, this one much shorter. _There are stipulations; they’d want to question you, but--_

“But I could land.”

_Yes._

Kylo considered his options, but only briefly. There were hardly enough to bother.

“How soon could I make port?”

_As soon as you can get here. The dock techs have already been briefed._

He nodded, already crawling free of his sleeping nook. “I’ll need a moment to get my bearings, but I can be en route in half an hour.”

_We’ll be waiting. And Ben?_

"What?"

_Give me a reason-- any at all-- to suspect a trap, and I’ll shoot you out of the sky myself._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This will be easier if you cooperate."
> 
> "What, killing me?"
> 
> Or, alternatively: In which Kylo should've known that making port would be the least of his troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thanks for the support so far! I'm glad so many of you have taken interest in the story. I'm beyond excited to see what y'all think of where it goes.
> 
> General content warnings: brief mention of needles& dubiously consented-to drug administration.

Kylo revisited the suspicion of having been baited as he hovered at the docks Rey’s transmitted coordinates led to.

A small garrison had been sent to meet him; thirty soldiers by Ren’s count. Identifying features were impossible to distinguish, bundled as they were against the planet’s deep chill. They wore huge, flat white jackets, heavy pants, and tactical gloves. Their faces were veiled, leaving only their eyes exposed, and each pair was trained on his ship. They reminded Kylo, absurdly, of snowmen. Or would have, were they not heavily armed.

The weapons didn’t match: some blasters and heavy pistols, a handful of stun batons and bowcasters. The unit had clearly assembled in haste-- likely pulled from bed, given the position of the moons-- but no doubt contained celebrated warriors. They held themselves and their weapons with confidence. Some even knelt to level their blasters at his engines. In the heavily anticipated event of betrayal, Kylo supposed, or would they even wait for that? It would be a decisive victory for Resistance if they didn’t.

A soldier from the middle ranks moved forward, breaking the group. They were too heavily cloaked for Kylo to be sure it was Rey, but they were a similar height and a blaster rifle was slung across their back. If she was determined to take him out herself if need be, it was the best of the assembled arms for it. The soldier didn’t reach for their weapon, however. Squinting up into the window of Kylo’s ship, they raised a fist. Kylo signalled back, and the soldier barked over their shoulder, urging the troops back a few feet before motioning for Kylo to land.

He thumbed the steering. There was still time to turn. He could fire a few blasts, scatter the troops, use their confusion to attempt an escape. If it didn’t work, he’d be gunned down mercilessly, but if it did-- and what then? His options were as exhausted as his supplies. Burying his mounting apprehension, he turned down the nose of the ship and lowered power in the engines. 

It took only a minute to touch ground, and less time still for the garrison to move in. He hadn't cut the engine completely before they’d ringed him, all weapons at the ready. One in particular, a hulking beast of a soldier, trained their blaster at his head through the windshield. Kylo swallowed, knowing the shot would smack between his eyes.

Something knocked against the side of his ship, and Ren’s heart clenched, certain for a second it was the backfire of a gun.

“Ben!” a voice called over the wind. Kylo relaxed incrementally when he recognized it as Rey’s.

“Yes,” he called back, eyes still on the soldier in front of him, watching their finger tease the cold tip of a trigger.

“Open the door, and come where I can see you.”

He nodded before realizing his mistake. Lowering their gun, the soldier in the window turned to where Rey must have been and passed it along. Well, Ren thought, at least there wasn’t a blaster at his skull anymore.

Kylo dragged his spare cloak over the one he already wore, stuffing himself into the catching fabric while punching in the code for the door. It groaned open, sticking like a long-sealed tomb, and the cold that rushed through it was biting. Steeling himself against it, Ren crossed the ship and centered himself the door.

Rey was already waiting at the edge of the extended ramp. As he came into view she held up a hand, signalling for him to stop. Unnecessary. Her rifle may still have been strapped to her back, but Kylo was highly aware of how many sights were on him. He didn’t care to be blown apart so soon.

She studied him, her eyes bouncing between his hands, his tired face, across his chest. Scanning for weapons, no doubt. She’d tugged off her veil to speak, letting it bunch below her chin. It was almost grotesque, a disembodied face in all that white, but already the weather was working to obscure it. The whipping wind inflamed her cheeks, and snow collected in her lashes and brows. It would take only ten minutes for ice to begin crystallizing on her lips, maybe less if she kept swiping her tongue across them. Her back was straight and proud, but her breath betrayed her. It puffed from her open mouth in frantic little billows. Rey was anxious; that made two of them.

“Your lightsaber.” She nodded to his belted waist. “Give it to me, and anything else you have.”

Kylo didn’t want to, didn’t want to be any more vulnerable than he already was. The longer he stood here, the more it felt like he’d been delivered to a firing squad. Sensing the hesitation, the two soldiers on either side of Rey adjusted their bowcasters. She ignored them.

“This will be easier if you cooperate.”

“What, killing me?”

Rey frowned at that. Even through the cutting cold Kylo felt her energy begin to leak, a hot little pool in the ice. Had he insulted her? 

“Convincing the others that you’re worth harboring.”

Her voice was harsh, but she was shrugging off her rifle, passing it to the soldier at her right. To Ren’s surprise, she then took a few steps up the ramp. She didn’t close their distance entirely, but came well within range of his lightsaber. It set her men on edge, but Rey seemed unconcerned. 

“I don’t blame you for being afraid, but I’m not trying to trick you.” She held out her hand, expectant and stubborn. “Trust me.”

Kylo set his jaw, but couldn’t deny it. He was afraid. But Rey had left her gun, compromised at least eight shots with her own back. What’s more, she’d likely put her reputation on the block to arrange this. Cursing to himself, he reached inside his cloak and unclipped the lightsaber, dropping it into her waiting hand. While she stuffed it into her coat, he knelt and tugged his knife free. Calling up his daring, Kylo locked eyes with her and tucked the blade carefully into her boot himself. Her brow quirked.

“Thank you,” she said dryly, offering her hand again. He took it, and let himself be guided to his feet. “Welcome to Belsavis.”

Things moved quickly after that. Rey and her team escorted Kylo from the docks and into a subterranean base. It was an old structure, its walls cracking in places and poorly lit, but well-insulated. Whoever built this-- an architect of the early Old Republic, if the style was authentic-- had known what they were doing. Across the planet’s turbulent history, this base would’ve been an invaluable asset to whichever warring faction scrambled inside first.

As they led him through the halls, the soldiers shed their veils and heavy coats. Kylo peered around as best he could, taking their measure. Most faces he didn’t recognize or had only the faintest memory of. The latter applied almost exclusively to the few older members of the team, the ones with salted hair and deep worry lines. Had he known them before he’d been sent to Luke? Did they commiserate in the dank hideouts that peppered Ren’s memories of childhood? And when they looked at him now, as he caught them doing several times, what ghost did they see?

The only two he knew for certain headed the pack with Rey. Poe Dameron, the willful, handsome pilot who’d caused the Order no shortage of grief, and the defected Trooper: Finn, he called himself now. Kylo wasn’t surprised to see them flanking her. The three made an excellent team, and were undoubtedly friends. You made those quick in the Resistance, Ren remembered, you had to. Things could fall apart so easily otherwise.

After several complex, somewhat hasty turns-- were they trying to confuse him?-- the squad halted at a sliding door. Rey thanked them all, tapping at an ancient mounted keypad, and assured them she needed no further assistance. 

“There’s still a few hours before breakfast,” she coaxed, noting how many of them looked chary to leave. “Get some sleep, please. The three of us can manage.”

Poe and Finn waved their bowcasters from where they leaned against the wall, and Rey patted the lightsaber on her belt. Not wholly convinced of their teammate’s security but tired enough to chance it, the garrison began to break off, wandering down separate halls in twos and threes. It took several minutes, but when the last of them had disappeared in the maze of tunnels Rey punched the last button. The keypad flashed, beeping out of tune, and the wall slid open. She caught Ren’s gaze and jerked her head, ushering him inside. 

He complied, brushing by her to get into the room. It was small, but not uncomfortable; certainly not the sort of dark holding cell he expected. A bed fit with sheets and a mylar blanket was tucked in the corner. At its side was a small table with a lamp, a full jug of water, and a clean glass atop it. On the opposite wall was a closed door, which presumably led to a private washroom. 

“It’s not much,” Rey said, following him in. She didn’t close the door behind her. Looking over his shoulder, Kylo could see her friends standing guard in it. “But it’s a sight better than that ship of yours.”

“I wasn’t thinking of long-term comfort when I chose it.”

“What were you thinking?”

At the risk of sounding foolish, Kylo didn’t answer. There was a nudge, a tentative tap at the gate of his mind. He could feel Rey trying to worm her way in. He centered, thinking only of a large, concrete wall, and locked her out. She sighed.

“The council won’t see you until morning,” she said. “Try to get some sleep in the meantime. A med droid will come when they’re ready."

“Med droid?” 

Why was that necessary? He hadn’t been hurt. Rey chewed the flaking skin on her lip, choosing her words carefully. 

“Bringing you here was a risk. A large one. We all agree it’s in our best interest to be sure you don’t lie during questioning.” 

Kylo felt himself pale. “Skirtopanol?”

More than once he’d seen General Hux conduct an interrogation with the drug’s aid. It didn’t just loosen lips; it hyper-heightened senses, unhinged the mind. What would he say under it? Depending on the dose, likely anything they wanted. 

Rey shook her head, pallid at the suggestion herself. “Not that,” she assured. “A standard truth serum. Perfectly safe.”

Maybe so, but the thought still made his skin crawl. What would they ask, and what would he say? There was no way of knowing when he still didn’t fully understand why he’d come here himself.

“Ben, look at me.”

He hadn’t realized he wasn’t. Willing himself to focus, Kylo met Rey’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and liquid, and he could almost see her halo of nerves.

“If you go along with this and you haven’t lied, I swear--” she laid the flat of her palm over her heart “--on my life that nothing will happen to you.”

Ren was reminded again of Hux’s interrogations, how the General sneered through hollow promises. _If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear._ Rey wasn’t malicious, but she was only one person, however favored. If her superiors decided to finish him after they’d extracted what they wanted, there’d be nothing she could do.

Rey dropped her hand, frown deepening. She couldn’t have read his thoughts, but given the circumstances he supposed they were easy enough to guess.

“Rest,” she murmured. “You need it.”

She slipped by him to rejoin her friends. Behind his back, he heard her clacking on the keypad, its responsive blips, and finally the metallic slid of the door. He waited until the locks finished tumbling before falling against it and releasing a shuddering breath.

He wondered if the three of them were still in the hall, hovering on guard duty. He wondered if they’d hear it if he screamed.

 

 

The bed was markedly more comfortable than the tattered bedroll he’d used the last few weeks, but Kylo still slept terribly. Between his fitful tossing and the flood of Rey’s energy, overwhelming now that they were so close, he barely managed an hour. When the little med droid came wheeling in, he was already awake.

“Good morning, Master Solo,” it chimed. “Did you sleep well?”

Kylo winced. The damned thing could’ve been talking to his father. “Does it matter?”

The droid rolled to the edge of his bed, chirping irritably. “Of course,” it said firmly. “Sleep is vital to functionality. Please sit up.”

Ren groaned, but did as instructed. He could refuse, try to get through the door, then one hall, and the next, but what would be the point? He was exhausted and unarmed. Willing or not, he was going to have to sit through this interrogation. Delaying would only compound his suffering.

“Present your arm-- thank you.”

He laid out his arm on the rest extending from the droid’s middle, making a fist as it felt out the girth and bounce of his veins. When it had chosen, a compartment opened up and a small claw extended, carefully guiding a syringe. Kylo watched it approach, the viscous serum amber in the light, and felt his fingers twitch.

“You’re going to feel a sting, sir.”

The needle pierced seconds later, sliding deftly into the vein. Kylo grunted weakly; he hated needles. It was quick work though, and soon the droid was retreating, replacing the needle with a patch of gauze that Ren dutifully held in place. The entry point was cold. He could feel the serum creeping up the network of veins, leaving its chilly imprint along the way.

The droid beeped shrilly, signalling to the guards. Two men filed in, and without preamble dragged him to his feet and out of the room. The serum must have been time sensitive, because they marched a touch too quickly. That, and Ren was already noticing its effects. A strange weight settled in his ankles, muddying his steps to the frustration of his escorts, and his head was beginning to swim. Not unpleasantly, but enough to cause his vision to lag. He felt loose. Drunk. Thank the Maker the men had taken his arms. He would’ve had trouble walking straight otherwise.

What felt like an indecent number of turns later, the guards halted him in front of a large, heavy door. They knocked, called something through it Kylo didn’t catch. He was focused on his tongue, the weight and wetness of it between his cheeks. It was a filthy, obscene muscle. How had he never noticed?

The door swung open, scattering his thoughts and revealing what resembled a small arena. Three rows of hard stadium seats ringed the room, and at its center was a wooden chair. Ren fell into it, unsure of how he’d gotten there. The guards must have dropped him, but then where had they gone? Neither man was beside him anymore.

“Kylo Ren.”

Slowly, gummily, Kylo scanned for the voice’s source. Ahead of him in the first two rows of benches, a small crowd was gathered. Had they been there before? He couldn’t remember. He recognized none of them but Rey, who was on the outskirts of the group, her leg bouncing. Was it her? Of those assembled, she was the only one looking at him. The rest were whispering among themselves. But no, it had been a man’s voice.

“Kylo Ren,” it repeated, louder now, and this time Kylo traced it. 

A tall man, graying and stern, paced before him. His hands were tucked behind his stiff, straight back in a picture of contempt.

“Yes,” Ren answered.

“Formerly known as Ben Solo,” the man continued, confident he had Kylo’s attention now. “Son of General Organa and Han Solo, of blessed memory?”

“Yes.”

The man nodded. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Interrogation.”

“Of a sort.” The man turned, addressing the crowd now. “As our subject is both lucid and compliant, I’d like to begin. Is the council prepared to hear?”

The crowd murmured; Kylo couldn’t distinguish any one voice in it. They were too quiet, or he too far away. How big was this room? It had seemed small from the door. The man must have heard what he wanted, because he turned his attention to Ren again and began firing questions. They were simple enough at first: _What planet are we on? What is your mother’s name? On what planet were you born? How did your father die?_ They were control questions, and he answered them quickly, despite the growing heaviness in his tongue.

Somewhere, however, he began losing time.

As the man’s questions grew more pointed, Kylo found it increasingly more difficult to keep focus. His interrogator’s dour voice skipped around the room like a stone, breaking the surface of some dark water Kylo had sunk beneath. Or rather, one he was bobbing in. He could tread, stay afloat long enough to catch a word or half a sentence before slipping under. When he resurfaced seconds or minutes later, it was to an ever more cloudy head. Increasingly bright lights. One spike, then another, in Rey’s luscious, encroaching energy.

This annoyed Ren’s interrogator. Recalling Kylo from the depths and repeating questions was taking time they didn’t have. Whatever strain of serum the Resistance used, it apparently had a small half-life.

“I said,” the old man spat, irritable from reiterating, “Why leave the Order unguarded to come here, if not to attack?”

Ren felt his brow draw tight. “I didn’t. I--” He pictured a shock of soft, red hair. “Armitage will handle it. Better, maybe.”

“Armitage?”

“General Hux.”

The interrogator hummed. It was deep and buzzing, like backfeed on a comm line. Kylo felt it in his chest and slouched further in his chair.

“On the subject of your General,” the man began--

Kylo didn’t hear the rest. He slipped under again, swallowed by the light and heat of the room. The tips of his fingers throbbed, radiating numbness through his wrists and up his arms. He didn’t feel drunk anymore; he felt weak. He needed to lie down, bind himself in sheets before his body and spirit split. The threat was looming, thrumming just beneath his skin. He was gunning to come apart. Would they watch it happen? What would it look like?

A smear of green snagged his attention. It bloomed from the edge of his tunneling vision, a jungle dark center bleeding out to muddy the shapes of the council. Rey was reaching, feeling him out from where she sat. She gnawed so viciously on her nails that Kylo’s ached.

 _Something’s wrong,_ she said, but not to him. Not to anyone. She hadn’t meant to throw it.

Miraculously, Ren must have given his interrogator an answer, because when he next surfaced the man had moved on.

“--you come?”

“Hm?”

The old man huffed, impatient. “Why did you come?” He stepped closer, coming into focus. “If you haven’t brought fighters; if you haven’t instructed your General to send them later; if you have no plans to spy, then why risk this?”

The interrogator flung out an arm, trailing a long sleeve. He gestured more to the situation than anything. For a moment, the room stilled. The white noise of whispers faded. Even Rey, stretched as she was throughout the room, seemed suspended. This was what they’d come for.

Kylo chewed his tongue, working up spit. His mouth was unbearably dry now, his cheeks sticking to the flats of his teeth. He needed water. He needed to lay down.

“I...felt it.” He closed his eyes, blocking the glare of the overhead light. When had that come into view? How far in his chair had he sunk? “When I dreamt. When it was quiet.” Cracking his eyes a little, Ren scanned the room for Rey. She was lost in the smear of color. Everything was dripping green. “She didn’t _want_ anything from me. Do you know how long... can you imagine...”

Kylo bit his tongue, embarrassed. He wanted to stop this, but the man was looking down his nose expectantly. 

“It’s exhausting,” he continued, “being an exploitable resource. Milked dry.” The numbness was in his shoulders now, his words slurring. “Lonely. If it’s a choice, if it’s... two of us--”

A hard wave of nausea hit, and Ren broke with a groan. He couldn’t see. The room around him was a mess of colors swatched senselessly over one another. They trembled and blurred, spiking his vertigo. There was something cold under his knees and palms now. He tried to grip it to steady himself, but his fingers were useless.

“Something’s wrong,” Rey said again, aloud this time. Her voice cut sharply through the fog. “How much did you give him?”

“A standard dose for--”

“I told you,” she interrupted, sounding furious, “he’s weak, malnourished. ‘Standard’ is too high!”

Was that what this was, an overdose? If his head wasn’t pounding, he could’ve laughed. Imagine: the Supreme Leader meeting his end on a block of ice, taken out by a dosing miscalculation. Hux would be livid.

There was a clamor in the benches as Rey hopped free. Kylo felt her approaching, her bombinating heat skating ahead of her, but still flinched when she knelt at his ear.

“Ben,” she breathed, almost frail, “I know you’re tired; I feel it too. But I need you to stay awake. Can you do that?”

She didn’t wait for a response. Rey pulled him onto his knees and worked herself under his arm. He moaned, grateful for the support, but it was short-lived. After a trembling few seconds Rey sank, cussing and bracing as best she could. He was too heavy. She called for help, and after some waffling another young woman joined. They hefted him from either side, stumbling as they negotiated his dead weight.

“Ok,” Rey chanted, finding her bearings. “Ok. Thank you.”

The other woman grunted a response, and the two of them turned to drag him from the arena. As they neared the door, Kylo heard the old man call after them. Incomplete, he said. Something about needing to finish. 

“Later!” Rey barked over her shoulder. _I hope._

Kylo swallowed the invading thought, feeling it harden in his throat. “So do I.”

Rey shouldered more of his weight, but didn’t acknowledge him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting somewhere now! The way things are looking, this will most likely end up being 14/15 chapters. I've got a ton of plot in mind, so I hope you'll stick with me through it. 
> 
> I'm going to try to work in several different characters moving forward (starting with Finn in this installment); hope I do them justice. I'm not 100% confident in this chapter, but I'm glad it's done and posted. Feedback definitely appreciated on any part of it.
> 
> Thanks again for taking this ride with me!

When he came back to himself, Kylo didn’t immediately know where he was. He expected the darkness of his sleeping nook and the stiff, sweaty bedroll. They’d come to be familiar, uncomfortable though they were, and after weeks of making due it was jarring to wake on a supple mattress. Whose bed was this? Not his own. He would’ve remembered returning to his flagship, and besides: that bed didn’t have a pillow this soft, or, come to think of it, a mylar blanket.

Bracing his elbows, Kylo shot up to drink in the room. He meant to, in any case. But the sudden move triggered a vengeful spike of nausea, and what little of his surroundings he managed to see swam together. He collapsed again with a grunt, shutting his eyes against the sickly spinning room. 

Of course, he thought, fisting the crinkling silver blanket. He’d landed on Belsavis, surrendered his ship, submitted to interrogation. But that last hadn’t gone to plan. Something about dosing, and then Rey had come, dragged him away like a ragdoll. He hadn’t been able to finish. That, or he’d never been meant to, and Rey had botched his execution. It was a pity either way. He felt like hell, and for what?

Beyond the bedside desk, something moved. Soft, wooden creaks, like someone adjusting their chair.

“Ren?”

Kylo’s fingers drew tight around the blanket. He’d expected a guard at the door, but to station one in the room… Had the interrogation gone that badly? Another set of creaks, the clunk of a datapad on the bedside table, and that voice again, closer now.

“Kylo?”

He winced from the barrage of noise, and the man mercifully took the hint. Muttering an apology, the guard crossed the room and dimmed the lights.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “That better?”

Even through his lids, the change was marked. The darkness was soothing, almost cool, and eased the tension mounting behind his eyes. 

“Yes,” Ren sighed gratefully. 

Encouraged by the slackening headache, he cracked his eyes, scanning the room for his warden. He caught Finn-- he hadn't recognized the man's voice, but seeing him now it was obvious-- by the door, one hand still fussing with the light panel while the other fished a commlink from his jacket.

“Rey,” he said into it, dialing the lights down a few more clicks. “You around?”

Rey's voice fed through the line. “Just getting back to the docks. Good timing?”

“Yea.” Finn crossed to the bedside table, motioning for Kylo to sit up. He poured him a full glass of water and mouthed _drink_ before returning to his commlink. “Ren’s finally up.”

 _Finally_. How long had he been asleep? Kylo wanted to ask, but his mouth cottoned at the sight of water. Snatching the cup, he drained it in greedy gulps. Finn, rather more bold than Kylo expected, took him by the wrist and pulled the cup away.

“Easy,” Finn chided. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Ren glared, but only halfheartedly. The other man was right. His stomach was already turning a little from the influx of liquid. Nodding his assent, Kylo held out the empty cup for a refill. Finn considered a moment before obliging.

“Sip,” he warned. The bite in his tone was more paternal than patronizing and Ren complied, taking small mouthfuls while Finn got back to Rey. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” Rey answered quickly, her voice tinny. “Sorry, needed to land. He’s really up? For how long?”

“A few minutes.” Finn glanced back to him, eyeing the glass in Kylo’s hand. “He’s rehydrating now.” 

“Good.” Rey’s sigh blew harsh through the line. “Great. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

A few seconds of static blasted through the commlink before the line went dead. Finn stuffed the little device back into his pocket, then returned to his chair.

“So,” he said halting, “How, ah-- how you feeling?”

Kylo watched the man take a seat, cross his legs, change his mind, cross them again. Was Finn nervous? Ren supposed he would be. Their previous encounters hadn’t been pleasant. He ran a finger around the wet rim of his glass, eyeing the hand-sewn shoulder of the other man’s jacket. Was he scarred beneath it? Finn crossed his arms, clearing his throat, and Kylo shook the thought.

“Like death,” he said truthfully.

The honesty unravelled some of the tension between them. Finn snorted a thin laugh and relaxed in his chair.

“You look like it too,” the other man teased.

Kylo didn’t doubt that. “How long was I out?”

“Three days. You woke up a few times, but it didn’t last. Mostly it was just--” Finn broke off, tonguing the point of one tooth. “--when you didn't feel well.”

“Ah.” 

That explained where his robes and shirt had gone, and why he'd been changed into a pair of soft, loose pants. That article was the most disconcerting; he hadn't brought any with him, didn't own any as far as he knew. They must belong to someone on base, graciously loaned after Ren vomited all over himself. How humiliating.

“Well,” Ren continued stiffly. “It was good of you not to leave me like that.”

Finn shrugged, scrubbing a hand over his short hair. 

“You were filthy anyway, man. It just gave us an excuse to bathe you.”

“Bathe me?” Kylo’s brow shot up. “Which of you did that?”

He imagined Rey with her sleeves shoved above her elbows, scrubbing weeks of grime and fresh sick from his lolling, naked body. His gut clenched.

“I did,” Finn assured, sensing Ren’s discomfort. “Not that I did much. I basically watched.” Finn winced almost immediately, shaking away the word. “Supervised,” he corrected, sounding chagrined. “You were coherent enough to scrub yourself; mostly I just made sure you didn't drown. I did have to help with your hair, though.”

Absently, Kylo reached for a lock of it. It was soft to the touch, lighter and neater than it had been in a month. The motion stirred up the crisp smell of shampoo, and Ren breathed it in deep. What a luxury to be clean again, even if the circumstances were a bit compromising.

“Thank you,” Kylo mumbled, sincere but unwilling to look the other man full in the face. 

This suited Finn fine. He popped his lips, feigning deep interest in the broken ends of his nails.

“Uh-huh,” he said, voice pitched a little higher. “Don’t mention it.”

The next few minutes passed awkwardly. Having exhausted their conversation, Finn returned to his datapad, lazily tapping the screen. The silence was far from comfortable, but Kylo was grateful for it all the same. It gave him time to assess his body for damage, of which there appeared to be little. Apart from sickness, the overdose didn’t seem to have had any lasting effects. There was no lag in his physical responses, no numbness or slurred speech. Satisfied that his recovery would be complete after rehydrating, Kylo relaxed and sipped his water. If Finn was content to let him rest, he wouldn’t waste the opportunity. Whatever came next, it would be easier to face refreshed. 

Would they question him again, now that the limits of their serum had been tested? It would be wise on their part. What little he recalled of the interrogation was personal, centered on his own motivations, and bore no tactical merit. If he’d surrendered anything of useful, Kylo didn’t remember it. As far as gaining military footing was concerned, the whole event had been a waste they couldn’t afford. 

The battle of Crait had all but decimated the pitiable remains of the Resistance. They’d recuperated somewhat-- that so many soldiers had escorted Ren from his ship spoke to that-- but not to the extent they needed. Not well enough to launch new, open attacks. If the Resistance was going to reestablish itself as a threat, it needed to move in shadow for a while. To that end, Kylo knew he was a valuable asset. He could be mined for a wealth of information if they had the stomach for it.

He tightened his fist around the mylar blanket, the material cool against his sweating palm, and chewed over a few facts. 

One: the Order would not fall without him. Despite what Snoke had believed-- what Ren himself once believed too-- _Supreme Leader_ was only a mantle. If need be, someone else could take it up. It would be difficult, so soon after the death of one and the disappearance of another, but it could and would be done. The Order was a breathing, organic thing. It didn’t hang by a thread like the Resistance, and nothing so banal as the loss of a figurehead would topple it.

Two: no one would come looking for him. There’d be no point. Hux could cover his disappearance awhile, but eventually the General would have to admit Kylo was gone. When the time came, Ren knew he’d be worth more dead than alive. Alive, Kylo was impotent at best, taken hostage by a limping enemy; at worst, he was a deserter. But if Hux convinced the Order at large that their Leader had fallen in battle-- well, the occasional martyr did wonders for group morale. Continuity of the Order was Hux’s highest priority, and if he had to count Ren as a loss to maintain it, he would do so without hesitation.

Three: accepting all that, Kylo would likely be held prisoner on this hunk of ice for the foreseeable future. That in itself wasn’t so terrible. Inconvenient, and most certainly uncomfortable, but doubtless the worst thing he’d ever endured. Even the Resistance’s most filthy machination would pale to Snoke’s invasions of his body and mind. Besides, Rey had promised. Already she’d proven herself willing to interfere on his behalf. If Kylo trusted nothing else, he trusted Rey’s deference to her conscience.

As if the thought had summoned her, the door to the room slid open and Rey came skidding through. She was panting a little, the upper half of her flight suit tied by its arms around her middle, hugging what looked like Kylo’s clothes to her chest. They had only a moment to glance each other over the bulky fabrics before Finn hopped from his chair.

“Good to see you planetside,” the other man greeted, relieving her of the bundled fabrics and dumping them into the chair. “Any luck out there?”

“Some,” Rey said, returning her friend’s smile. “We have allies still. You just have to know where to look.”

“How many today?”

“Ten; a few mechanics and some promising gunners.” She tugged the sleeves of her suit tighter around her slim hips. “Akiva is interviewing them now. With any luck, they’ll start training tomorrow.”

Was this how they’d bolstered their numbers over the last month, aimless recruitment trips, scraping up soldiers a handful at a time? Kylo wondered how often Rey returned with only the men she’d left with.

“Better than nothing. If they’re taking volunteers, I don’t mind if a few grease monkeys shadow me. Rose is stretched pretty thin from the last batch of recruits.”

Finn paused to bite back a yawn. For the first time, Kylo noticed the darkness beneath his eyes, how the man’s shoulders slouched with fatigue. Rey’s grin softened at the corners, and she patted Finn’s arm.

“We’ll work it out later,” she said. “Get some rest for now. I’ve got it from here.”

 

 

 

Finn didn’t reseal the door when he left. Rey didn’t bother to either. For a while, she didn’t do much of anything at all. She stood at the foot of Kylo’s bed, arms crossed over her chest, eyes sweeping him: his ruffled hair, the long line of his scar, his bare chest and arms. He was reminded quite suddenly that he was half naked and had to resist tugging the blanket up to his neck. It didn’t matter, he chided himself. Not really. They were soldiers first, a man and woman second, and besides: she wasn’t gawking. Her eyes traveled quickly, lighting on what they could and tracing the blanketed outlines of what they couldn’t too rapidly to drink him in. Perhaps she was only reassuring herself that he was solid.

“How are you feeling?” she asked finally.

Kylo breathed a laugh at the echo of her friend’s earlier question. 

“I’ve been better.” He took a sip from his cup before continuing. “Finn said I was out for three days.”

Rey looked taken aback by Kylo’s use of the name, but recovered quickly.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Almost four, actually. I was starting to think--” She broke off, tightening the knot of her arms. “But you’re awake now. That’s all that matters.”

Ren hummed. “What was it you said? ‘Perfectly safe’?”

“It usually is,” she said defensively. “It would’ve been this time if Tindale had listened to me.”

His interrogator, Kylo assumed. He thought again of how convenient it would’ve been for the Resistance if he’d died in questioning. Perhaps Tindale had listened, and simply used the information differently than she’d expected.

“Stop it.”

Kylo’s mouth turned down. “What?”

“Thinking,” Rey said firmly, a low heat coiling out from her, “such horrible things.”

Ren schooled his surprise. He hadn’t felt her in his mind, but she must have slipped in. What else could she mean? He was weaker still than he’d realized.

“We aren’t the First Order,” she pressed, dropping her arms. “I didn’t ask you to surrender just to stab you in the back.” Her fists clenched rhythmically at her sides, an old centering technique. Had Luke taught her that? “It was just a mistake.”

Her eyes were wide and defiant, daring Ren to disagree. He didn’t have the energy.

“Fine,” he yielded. “It was a mistake.”

Rey nodded, letting her hands unclench. The heat that had been rising in the room banked. She blew out a slow, deep breath and rubbed a stubborn knot at her neck. 

“You’re lucky,” she said, but didn’t elaborate.

Kylo didn’t press. He watched her cross the room and drag Finn’s abandoned chair to the side of his bed. She lifted the clothes that had been dumped in it and shook them out, draped them neatly over the tall back of the chair: two sets of pants, two undershirts, a overshirt, a cowl, a robe. Was this really all he’d brought? Was this all he had left, now that his weapons had been confiscated? He waited for her to sit before speaking again.

“How so?”

Rey slouched in the chair, her knees bumping the bedframe. She was close. Dangerously so, had Ren been armed, her femoral artery well within stabbing range. If she heard the thought, she didn’t acknowledge it.

“You’re awake, for starts. That isn’t a given with overdoses.”

Ren was willing to cede the point. “And the interrogation?”

“I think we can agree that it didn’t go overly well. You were pretty incoherent toward the end, and Tindale wasn’t able to ask everything he wanted.” Rey’s frown softened, and she straightened in the chair. “Still, it wasn’t a total loss. The council took what they heard into consideration and reached a verdict.”

“Which is?”

Rey wet her lips, considering. “Since you appear to have no one following you and no plans to expose the base, you’ve been deemed a non-immediate threat.”

Kylo tapped at the glass in his right hand, wishing there was something better to do with his free one than worry at his blanket.

“I don’t know what that means,” he said, the admission making his stomach turn. 

“It means you have a choice to make.”

Maker, he thought, did she have to drag it out? “Between what?”

At some point Rey had leaned forward in the chair. Her spread knees pressed into the bed frame, her weight braced on the edge of the bed. Her small hands were working into the mylar, not unlike Kylo’s own. She was looking at him dead-on now, taking his measure without quarter. He wished, rather childishly, that she’d at least let him put on a shirt first.

“You can’t leave either way,” she said, voice low as though she were soothing an animal. “But you can help us, willingly give information we can work with, or--”

“Or you lock me in a cell and take what you need anyway,” Kylo interrupted coldly. “That’s a deadfall, not a choice.”

Only the barest beat of silence passed between them, then Rey’s face scrunched into a sneer. 

“How did you think this would go?” Rey asked, voice as biting as Ren’s. “We’d refuel your ship and send you on your way? Given who you are, after everything you’ve done?”

“You tricked me.”

“I helped you,” she spat, sounding near to regretting the fact. “I’m trying to help you now.” Rey took a deep breath. “If you cooperate, you’ll be fed. You’ll have a room, a bed, a shower. I’ll make sure no one hurts you. Kriff, prove we can trust you and no one will want to.”

Kylo was highly aware of his breathing, how it fluttered erratically over his parted lips. Rey’s was no better. She was panting, the force of it rolling her shoulders; was she furious or frightened?

“What do you want from me?” 

“I want you to stop crushing the best part of yourself every time it threatens to come through. I want Ben.”

“You don’t know who that is.”

There was a slight tremble in Rey’s lip that she bit it into submission. 

“I’d like to.”

They were both quiet, feeling out the edge of their stalemate. Rey’s warring mix of anger and dejection stood between them like a wall, and Kylo felt pinned. He was a prisoner no matter what he chose now, but he’d known this would come. Rey was right; it would’ve been foolish to assume otherwise. And he hadn’t. But he also hadn’t expected this. Why wouldn’t they just lock him away, try to force out what they wanted? Why bother with choice? Why take this chance?

Rey sighed, scrubbing hard at her tired face.

“You still aren’t well,” she said bleakly. “If you’d like, I can buy you a day more think. After that we’ll need an answer.”

Kicking back the chair, she turned from Kylo’s bed and headed for the door. The lines of her back were set hard, every muscle stubborn, and the blunt force of her emotions rolled from it like water. She wanted to fight him, cow him, beg him, but she wasn’t going to do any of it. She was going to leave and lock the door behind her without another word. 

Kylo’s throat ached. “Rey.”

She didn’t turn, but she froze in the door. She was waiting for him to go on, he realized, but his tongue was lead behind his teeth. Pathetic. Utterly humiliating.

“You have to give me something, Ben.”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, wondering how bitterly he’d come to regret this. 

“I’ll do it,” he said finally.

Rey’s grip on the doorframe relaxed, and she turned back. Her eyes were blown, mouth parted as Ren’s own; still angry, still frightened, but visibly relieved. She laid the flat of her hand over her heart as she’d done before his interrogation, making sure to hold his gaze.

“I’ll help you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kylo starts to earn his keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going up a day later than I'd have liked, but I think the delay was worth it! As always, let me know how y'all feel about the chapter/the plot+characters in general.

Three days spent unconscious had taken a larger toll on his health than Kylo originally thought. He wasn’t well enough to get out of bed until the end of the first day, and it was another four before he was cleared to leave the room. In that respect, Belsavis was remarkably similar to his stint on the stolen ship; no distractions or change of scenery. The only substantial difference was the full-sized ‘fresher, which Ren vowed never to take for granted again, and rather unexpectedly: the company.

Throughout his recovery, Rey and Finn took turns checking in. Each brought food-- thin soups and tough preserved meat-- and fresh jugs of water every couple of hours. Kylo had little appetite, but that didn’t seem to matter. Both insisted he clean each plate. He felt a like an orphan from his mother’s old fables, forcing down table scraps under the keen supervision of his hosts. Still, when his strength began to return he was grateful. It had been over a month since he’d had real food; if he ever saw a ration bar again, he’d be sick on the spot.

Though frequent, each visit was terse, cut short by the bustle of the base. Rey and Finn kept their commlinks handy, hopping channels and juggling conversations with Resistance members of every standing. Who answered to whom was impossible to determine. Their conversations were built on months of context to which Kylo wasn’t privy. It was dizzying, chaotic, and exactly as he remembered it. 

If he closed his eyes and let the dismal room fade, would he be a child again? Eight or ten, lost in the return flow of grubby, blood drunk fighters? 

He wouldn’t dwell on the thought long. There wasn’t space to. While obviously strapped, Finn and Rey devoted the time they’d set aside for him fully. When they could afford to they pocketed their commlinks, spoke slowly, looked him in the eyes. The attentiveness was disarming. Kylo couldn’t imagine what reason Finn had for it; a favor to Rey, perhaps. The two were good friends, and it wouldn’t be surprising to learn that the man was only here at her request.

As for Rey: once he’d agreed to the Resistance’s terms, her mood improved considerably. She seemed to count it as a personal victory. Whatever her reason for wanting him here, she’d gotten her way, and her fractious orbiting energy settled. It was curious, young and fresh as Ren had first experienced it. She made no effort to conceal it, instead letting it fill the room, its heat warming the steel walls and easing Kylo’s aches. Rey was pleased with him, and it was making her generous. 

When she brought rations, she sat on the edge of his bed, picking at the scraps herself to goad him into eating. While he ate, Rey chittered, one half-thought chasing another: how many new recruits she’d snared, what had been broken or repaired, which supply shortages were critical. He didn't add much to the conversation, and she didn't badger him to. It read like a briefing, as if Ren had simply returned from a long, grim mission. It was like being on equal footing, though he knew they weren't. Amiable as Rey was being, Kylo was a prisoner. Once outside of the room, exposed to soldiers whose comrades he'd helped mow down, the illusion would shatter. 

A week after making planetfall, the med droid that had administered the serum-- did they only have one?-- returned to Kylo’s room to run tests. It took vitals and a blood sample, measured and timed his reflexes.

“Have you been sleeping better, Master Solo?”

Kylo considered saying that lack of sleep had been the least of his medical troubles, but bit it down. It wasn’t the droid’s fault he overdosed. 

“Yes, actually.” 

The few inches of cushioning the mattress had over his bedroll had done wonders. That, and the downtick in Rey’s energy. She’d been milder the last few days than she had been since he’d stolen that ship; when it came in dreams and quiet moments now, it was more akin to a creeping vine than a rocket. 

Did she know how loudly she projected? That even across base, he could feel the swell of her moods? She’d taken measures to shut him out before, so she must. He wondered if Luke had felt it as violently as he did himself, if the old man had tried teaching her to control it. Skywalker had failed if so, or Rey was a poor student. Ren knew something about that.

“Good,” the little droid said, the lights behind its glass eyes blipping as it read the collected data. “Sleep is--”

“Vital to functionality,” Ren finished. “I know. You’ve said.”

“Well,” the droid chirped, crabbed by the interruption, “do try to remember it.” Two slow, bright flashes came from its eyes, as if it were blinking, followed by a shrill ping. “In any case, you are healthy now.”

“Enough to leave the room?”

“I can’t see why not.”

Kylo pushed back his hair, wet still from his morning shower. Restless as the closed quarters made him, he’d rather been dreading leaving them. What was to stop the Resistance from going back on their word, teasing out a few willing confessions then locking him up anyway? A few easy victories would be enough to garner new interest in their cause, remind the Order that it hadn’t yet been squashed. After that, what did they need Kylo’s cooperation for? With the aid of their serum and Rey’s strengthening telepathy, they’d be able to peel open his mind without fear of false leads. 

“Excellent,” Ren breathed, weary. “Pass the diagnosis along as soon as you can.”

He was sure this had already taken longer than the Resistance had hoped.

 

 

Rey and a handful of soldiers came for him later that afternoon. 

She'd given him warning, slipped into his mind not long after the droid had been sent on its way.

_CN-8 shared its report. We’ll come for you after next watch change. It should only be a few hours._

By now her presence was too frequent to be alarming, but it was still odd how easily she bridged their distance. Before their connection was haphazard, unguided; it had been tempting to believe that Snoke had arranged them, but it was clear now he hadn't. Or if he had, he'd lost control of the process early. Their bond was independent now, and they were each testing its bounds. Ren had done so more than once while confined to this room: caught minutes of Rey sparring or working on her ship, watched her brow furrow when she recognized his hazy presence somewhere in the room.

It was exhilarating, to be bonded to someone so equally. Snoke’s intrusions were power moves, reminders of Kylo's pledged subservience. Ren could never have hoped to know his old master's mind in any capacity. But this exploration was mutual, almost intimate. 

Ren scowled at the thought as he dressed. _Intimate_. It was as ridiculous as it was sentimental. 

After dressing, Kylo passed the time with what meager distractions he could conjure. He opened each drawer of the nightstand and explored their insides, folded and unfolded his spare clothes, meditated. When his escort arrived two hours later, his previous apprehension had nearly faded; whatever they had planned, at least he'd have gotten out of this damned room.

“Ready?” Rey asked from the door.

She didn't cross the threshold. Neither did her men. The anomaly set Ren's teeth on edge, but he nodded and crossed to meet her. Once out of the room the soldiers circled him, forming a wide perimeter. Their weapons were down-turned, but still drawn; Kylo could have laughed. Where did they think he would go? Where could he hope to?

As they escorted him through the halls, Rey broke rank to walk at his side.

“I felt it.”

Kylo glanced over to her. She was close enough that she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. 

“When you saw us in the door,” she elaborated. “And when CN-8 gave its diagnosis. You need to relax.”

That was easy enough for her to say. This was her playing field.

“Forgive me for being tense,” he said, “while surrounded by people who’d rather see me hanged.” 

“I said I'd protect you,” she sighed. “I've had to trust you a lot recently; I'd appreciate it if you returned to favor.”

“I trust you.”

Caught off guard by the admission, Rey said nothing for several seconds, but Kylo felt her probes at the edge of his thoughts. Like an itch. Like a caress. He frowned and tightened his mind.

“Customarily,” he mumbled, “one doesn't follow up this sort of exchange with an invasion of privacy.”

Rey had the decency to look chagrined, and didn't speak for the rest of the walk.

Their destination was a war room deep in the base; nearly a twenty minute walk, by Kylo's count. Whoever designed this maze clearly considered it the heart of their operation. It would’ve been nearly impossible to find without a guide, and would serve well as a final hideout if the base were overrun. 

Ren and his escort were the last to arrive. When they shuffled in, the room was already packed with gunners and pilots, techs and dock men, and a handful of officials. All were crammed into the sparse seating or propped against the walls, talking over one another as they waited for the meeting to adjourn.

If he had to hazard a guess, he’d say only a third of these people needed to be here. The rest were meat in the room, and likely had only come to see Kylo for themselves. It wasn't uncommon. It had been the same on Hux’s ships. Attendance at the General's meetings would triple if word got out Ren would be present. There was nothing like a monster in a mask, or in this case one on a leash, to draw a crowd.

The chatter died as Kylo's guard dispersed, revealing their ward. Some stared, mapping his face and stance and scars, while others set their jaws and pointedly looked away. Almost everyone, to Ren's discomfort, made a show of laying their weapons on the table for easy access.

He swallowed thickly. Being a pariah was nothing new; being an unarmed one, however, was a novel displeasure.

“Rey,” came a cheery voice from the head of the table. “Glad you could make it.”

It was Poe Dameron, looking far more official than when Ren had seen him last. A few dusty old rank pins were on his chest, and he was bent over a screen, firing up projection maps for the meeting. He was flanked by two other ranking officers; a battle-hard Twi'lek that Kylo vaguely recognized, and the other--

His gut seized as Leia Organa met his gaze across the table. Impossible. That horrible explosion, plexiglass crystallizing in open space; no one could have survived. Not the youngest, mightiest warrior, neither of which his mother was. She was almost shockingly old now: her face cut with dozens of lines, eyes beginning to milk out from the corners, hair gray.

Her jaw worked, setting hard as though daring him to deny her, and he wanted to. Wanted to accuse this imposter, or if it were a ghost to throw something and scatter it. Wanted to shake her shoulders, touch her braided hair, goad her to speak or hit him; anything to prove her tangibility. But he couldn’t move. Why? General Organa had no power he didn’t; only the weight of her glower had him pinned, the ice of it working into his blood. He felt like a child again, caught playing with one of Han’s blasters. He wondered what Leia felt like.

Rey tugged at his elbow, murmuring, urging him to move. It broke the spell. His mother looked away and settled into the seat beside Poe, and Kylo allowed himself to be guided from the door.

“You didn't tell me.”

“What?”

“General Organa,” he said, furtive and low. “That she--”

He broke off, unwilling to say it lest the illusion splinter. He'd seen the explosion, the dreadful bobbing of bodies become space junk. He’d felt her light flicker out. 

His lip was trembling. He could feel it. Ren bit it viciously to submission, and Rey tightened her grip on his arm.

“I'm sorry,” she soothed, and Kylo resented her a little for the tone. “There was so much else to think about. So much to arrange. And once you were here--” She paused, her thumb working circles into his arm, choosing her words.

She didn't have to. Ren could guess why the secret had been kept. Princess Leia was both an icon and accomplished General. If Kylo had come with ill intentions, concealing her was top priority. There was no sense in risking the Resistance's dwindling leadership.

“It doesn't matter,” Ren said, wriggling free of Rey's grip.

“Ben--”

“Don't. Please.”

Rey relented with a sigh, returning her attention to the room at large. When Kylo followed suit, he was alarmed to find all eyes were on them; Poe's most of all, who Ren assumed was heading this meeting. One of the man's dark brows quirked. He couldn’t have heard them from where he stood, but the subject must have been obvious.

“You done?”

He said this more to Kylo than Rey. Ren gave a tight nod.

“Good,” the other man said. “If everyone’s ready--” he motioning the room for silence. “We’d like to get started.”

After a minute or so of shuffling-- everyone finding their seats or squatting to the floor, conversations halting with promised whispers of _later_ \--, Poe had the assembly’s attention. All faced the back of the room, their eyes hopping between Poe, General Organa, and the Twi’lek. Pale orange skin marred with ropy, burn-dark scars, faded old slave marks at her neck; Kylo knew her, or at least remembered having done. She was a Commander, an old family friend. Oori, perhaps, or maybe Uzi.

“Right,” Poe began, breaking through the thought. Kylo returned his attention to the man to find, once again, he was staring right at him. “First, I want to thank you for making this easy. No one was looking forward to dragging anything out of you.”

Kylo didn’t doubt that, though he was sure their reasoning had little to do with his comfort. Current predicament aside, Kylo still commanded a great deal of dread. Who would’ve wanted to guard his cell, restrain him if necessary? The list would've been short.

When Ren said nothing, Poe cleared his throat and continued.

“You’re currently in high-security confinement. I don’t think that’s unclear. But in the interest of fairness, we--” he motioned to the women beside him and four men at his back. “--decided on a point system. The more verifiable leads you give, the more privileges you unlock.” Poe swiped his tongue over the point of one tooth, the corners of his mouth turning up an impudent grin. “More importantly, fewer people will be gunning to kick your teeth in.”

The Twi’lek rolled her eyes and jabbed Dameron in the ribs. “Don’t be a knob.” 

She said it lazily, as though she and Poe had been over this many times. Given the man’s track record, Kylo wouldn’t be surprised if they had. Massaging the sore point in his side, Poe looked again to Ren, a hint of tease still in his voice.

“You follow me, big guy?”

Kylo clenched his fist. He wanted to put it through that handsome, cock-sure face. Rey must have sensed it, because she mirrored the Twi’lek, landing the sharp point of her elbow between his ribs. He grunted, but welcomed the pain. It gave him a focus he desperately needed. He couldn’t afford to take liberties like Dameron.

“I follow,” Ren confirmed finally.

The room audibly relaxed, many of the attendees sitting back in their chairs. Had the tension between them been that palpable? Compared to his standoffs with Hux this had been nothing, but these soldiers had no way of knowing that. 

Bravado aside, Poe seemed pleased as well. The other man’s lips twitched up again and he gave a little nod. Kylo suspected he was being sized up, though against what metric he couldn’t guess.

“Then lets start with something easy,” Poe said, crossing his arms. “Give us the bad news, Ren.” When Kylo didn’t respond, he elaborated: “What’s the chance the Order will pack up and going home without you?”

Kylo couldn’t suppress a scoff. “Astronomically low.”

“That’s what we figured. What’s your line of succession?”

Ren shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. He--Snoke-- had no plans of being replaced. No fallback was ever established.”

Poe looked a little perplexed. “So how’d you get it?”

He felt Rey tense beside him. What had she told her teammates about Snoke’s death? The truth, at least all of it, was highly unlikely. Not wanting to risk her exposure, Kylo pressed on carefully.

“Hux and I were the last two living men in Snoke’s throne room, and between the two of us I had the strongest hand.”

“Right,” Poe drawled. “How’d he feel about that?”

“He wasn’t happy. His imperial aspirations have always been clear.”

Not to Snoke, of course. Hux had been deferential enough, and the previous Supreme Leader gave little real thought to… what was it he’d called Armitage? _A rabid cur_. Kylo had noticed, but considered it nothing more than fantasy, the wet dream of a thoroughly bound man. But with Snoke dead and Kylo himself out of the way, the assumption was worth revisiting.

“If I had to guess,” Ren continued, “Hux will put off announcing my disappearance as long as possible. He’ll try out command in the meantime under guise of being my mouth. Once he’s comfortable, he’ll make up a gritty death for me and assume power for himself.”

The Twi’lek Commander spoke up then. “And you think he’ll be successful?”

Kylo studied her a moment. “Your name,” he mused. “I can’t remember it.”

“I’m not surprised. You were very young when you last had cause to use it.” An old sadness darkened her eyes. “It’s Erie.”

Of course. How could he have forgotten? Of General Organa’s friends, he’d always liked her best. She who was never too busy to spar playfully with a child, who delighted in passing on her tricks, who’d given him the boot knife Rey confiscated. He recommitted the name to memory before answering. 

“Hux is a highly accomplished and respected General, with the added benefit of an impressive military lineage. The only blight on his record is Starkiller, which most of his subordinates agree was my failure anyway. Given the scope of his influence, I can't imagine anyone else taking it.”

Erie nodded. “He's worth watching, then.”

“I suppose, though I don't know what good it will do. You don't have enough soldiers to get anywhere near his fleet, let alone attack his flagship.”

“No,” Poe agreed, cutting back in. “We don’t.” 

He tapped the screen on the desk and a grainy holomap flickered into view, hovering above the table. 

“What we have currently is 300 soldiers. About half of them are experienced or recently trained; the rest we're working on.” Poe leveled a look at him through the holo. “Right now we’re scraping by, but if we can get up enough buzz, show everyone we’re still in the fight--” He let out a slow, measured breath. “We need some easy wins, and we need ‘em bad. Tell me you’ve got something.”

Kylo tongued the back of his teeth, chancing a glance around the room. Now that they’d settled and the novelty of his presence worn off, it was easier to see how tired they all were. Techs and gunners propped against one other, pilots slumping under the weight of double-digit flight cycles. Had any of them stopped running since Crait? Dameron was right: they wouldn’t be able to maintain this much longer, not with enlistment so low. The Resistance needed more support, but with nothing other than the disaster on Crait in recent memory--

Ren popped his fingers. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this.

“Permission to approach the map.”

Poe looked taken aback by the request, but quickly recovered. After giving the rest of the officers time to back away, he motioned for Kylo to join him at the head of the table. Ren wasted no time. He took the room in a few strides and bent over the map, typing in a set of coordinates. The map blew out, and two planets blipped on either side of it. Poe leaned over his shoulder, tapping each for their identifiers.

“Voss?” he asked, a little incredulous. “And-- you’re not serious-- what the hell is on Crul?”

Not much, Kylo was willing to admit. The planet was little more than a bog in the Mid Rim, which had been half of the appeal.

“It’s a small base,” Ren said, “mostly used for weapons development and fuel storage. The Order runs it on a skeleton crew, so with proper planning taking it would be no trouble. You couldn’t hold it permanently--”

“But we could get one hell of a munitions upgrade,” Poe interrupted, eyes bright at the prospect. “And top off our fuel stores before we scram.” He tapped the planet again, marking it for later. “Alright, what about Voss?”

“That,” Kylo said, tapping the planet to blow it up, “is a potential second base.”

Behind him Ren heard the officers begin whispering to one another. Poe leaned a little closer to the screen, almost brushing Kylo’s shoulder now.

“What makes you think we could hold it?”

“It’s mine.” He straightened up, watching the holo planet spin above the table. “Snoke established the base for me years ago. At the time I had more than an academic interest in the Nightmare Lands, and he agreed that visiting might be useful in furthering my training. The camp was erected so I'd have somewhere to stay during pilgrimage.”

“What are the Nightmare Lands?”

“A fairy story,” Erie cut in.

Ren’s mouth turned down in annoyance. 

“A deeply, spiritually corrupted forest,” he corrected. “Home to the temple that once housed one of the darkest entities in the galaxy. But that’s beside the point.” 

Ren tapped the screen again, and a few points on the projection darkened. 

“Given that it's a personal base, there are rarely more than thirty guards present.” He pointed to the leftmost feature on the planet. “This is the only guard station. If you take that, you control the camp. You can reroute transmissions, edit guard cycles to keep the Order off planet, and use the rest of the facilities however you wish.”

Poe stayed hunched, eyes skating over the screen, and was silent a while. Behind the two of them, the officers were still chattering: Erie recounting and dismissing stories of the Nightmare Lands, a few of the men arguing the logistics of adding a second base. Leia, however, was silent, hadn’t said a word since Kylo had entered. The fact was wearing holes in his nerves. Why wouldn’t she speak?

“It would be nice not to spend all our time on this hunk of ice,” Dameron allowed. “And once our numbers start going up, we’ll need the space.” The other man drummed the table thoughtfully, then marked Voss like he’d done Crul. “We’ll have to talk it over, but I think that’s a good start. Rey?”

“Commander?”

Her voice was friendly and light, and Poe couldn’t help but smile through the holomap.

“Our guest needs an escort. Mind seeing him out?”

Kylo’s frown deepened. He supposed he shouldn’t have expected to be present for the entire meeting; he was, after all, a rogue player. Still, he didn’t like being dismissed, especially after having done exactly what Dameron wanted.

“Not at all,” Rey said, crossing the room to collect him.

A twitch of motion caught Kylo’s eye: Leia against the wall, beckoning Rey to switch course. Rey obeyed, giving Kylo a sheepish look before going to his mother’s side. General Organa laid a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder, pulled her in close to mumble at her ear. After a moment, Rey nodded, and Leia gave her arm an appreciative pat before sending her back.

“Anything I should know about?” Poe teased as Rey came between him and Ren.

“If you needed to know, she’d have told you.” Rey turned her attention to Kylo. “Ready to go?”

He wasn’t, but gave a nod anyway. Then, after she’d said her goodbyes, he followed Rey out of the war room. 

His guard detail was waiting outside the door. When they crossed the threshold it regrouped around them and began a slow march out of the belly of the maze. Kylo waited until the door was out of sight before speaking.

“What was that about?” he asked, working to keep accusation from his tone.

“The meeting? I thought it was pretty clear.”

“You know what I mean.”

Rey looked up at him, a little unsure. 

“I’ll tell you later,” she promised. “But we should eat first. I’m starving, and I bet you are too.”

Her mind was wide open. Ren could feel it, her soft energy spreading out like butter. It wouldn’t be difficult to slip in, leaf through her thoughts until he found what he wanted. She probably wouldn’t even notice. What couldn’t the General speak aloud? What hadn’t she wanted Kylo to hear? He didn’t want to wait, didn’t want to give Rey time to lie and cover Leia’s tracks.

Beside him Rey moved closer, giving his ribs softer prod with her elbow. 

“You did great in there,” she said kindly. “Really.”

Kylo felt his face slacken, and the creep of something dangerously close to shame working up his spine. He couldn’t do it now, not after that.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly.

As they moved through the maze, Ren reminded himself that he was meant to trust her, and hoped it wasn’t misplaced.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey and Kylo take a minute to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty Kylo&Rey centric. Now that everyone’s settling down around base, I thought it’d be nice to have a break from the action. Things will be picking up again starting next chapter though (which I'm already excited to start), so enjoy the chill while you can, folks. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

“You're staring.”

Rey's voice was hushed, close to Kylo’s ear, but startled him anyway. His grip on the spoon in his hand tightened, sloshing the thin, dreary soup it rested in. Caught out, he tore his eyes away from the soldier across the mess hall. The scowl on his face deepened, and he focused instead on chasing hunks of root vegetables through the broth.

“And?” Ren hunched his shoulders, shrinking into his chair. “ _They’re_ doing it.”

It was true. Since being dragged into the mess hall, Kylo had been nothing short of a spectacle. Those closest to the table Rey chose made quick work of their meals, eyeing him distrustfully over their bowls before fleeing the hall. Emboldened by distance, everyone else openly stared. They craned their necks, peaked over shoulders, even angled their chairs, unwilling to expose their backs. All the while they whispered, occasionally jabbing a finger in his direction to harden a point. The room echoed too loudly to catch what they were saying, but he doubted it was pleasant.

Kylo had never been so desperate to cover himself. He wanted a mask, a cowl, anything to hide his face from the crowd. Why had Rey brought him here? They could’ve taken food back to his quarters, eaten on his bed like they had while he recovered. The mattress didn’t make for the best table, but it would’ve been preferable to this. How could she stand to eat while these men stared daggers? Ren’s own throat had drawn tight; he couldn’t have forced the soup down.

Rey rested an elbow on the table, leaning temptingly into his line of sight. Kylo refused the bait. He stirred the cooling soup, making whirlpools and watching them spin out. If it annoyed Rey, she hid it well.

“Can you blame them?” she asked. “Most only know you by reputation, and everyone else--” Rey twirled her spoon like a knife. “It’s only been a few months, Ben. They haven’t forgotten.”

Ren hadn’t thought they would. Those remaining from the standoff with the First Order had survived at the cost of watching their friends die horribly. Many of those deaths, Kylo knew, had come on his own orders. It had been a bloody, miserable day for the Resistance, and there wasn’t a soul on base he expected sympathy from. Still, being confronted with the reality was unpleasant. 

He dropped his spoon, crossing his arms on the table. Perhaps imprisonment would have been better. At least then he’d have been out of sight. The constant swarm of eyes made him feel like a beast behind glass, unable to escape the pressing in of strange faces. His skin burned. 

Beside him, Rey let out a slow, measured breath, and-- something else. Something cool and lapping like a wave, brushing almost apologetically against his neck and face. He stiffened at the contact. Was she… no, she wouldn’t touch him. Not like that, and besides: he couldn’t place a point of origin. The contact was too dispersed to be physical. Ren turned his head to study her, and his suspicion was confirmed. Rey was propped on her elbow still, hands to herself, but her face was drawn tight. Her brows were scrunched, eyes crinkling at their corners in a picture of concentration.

Kylo relaxed. It was only a trick. This particular manipulation of energy was new from her, but one he recognized. It was something Luke used to do when Kylo was younger, restless or homesick at his uncle’s temple. He would take Kylo aside, let his own quietude swaddle Ren like a blanket, bring him back to the moment, to his small, anxious body. 

He leaned into it, letting his eyes slip closed. Had Skywalker taught her this, or had she read about it in the old man’s books? Either way, it was impressive. Kylo himself had never been able to master the move, something Luke attributed to his nephew’s natural disposition. _Too turbulent_ , Skywalker had criticized-- not unkindly at first, though with increasing frustration over the years-- _Not enough peace in you to share_.

Was there really enough in Rey? Ren couldn’t imagine there was. He’d felt a whole gambit of warring emotions from her, the swells and peaks of her energy. But it was true that some were more naturally inclined to such abilities. Perhaps she had a reserve, tucked away in the cave of her chest for this. 

Another wave moved over his arm, across his chest, licked up his neck and chin. Kylo thought of a lake Han took him to as a child, how they’d both laid at the tide line and let it wash them clean. What had they been doing to get so filthy? He couldn’t remember.

“Better?” 

Rey’s soft voice invaded the memory, and Ren shook himself. This wasn’t that lake, and he wasn’t a child. More to the point, Han was dead. A bit of the ease Rey had built up chipped away at the thought, but he hummed his assent anyway. He did feel better, after all, though admittedly the bar was low.

“Finish your soup, then. I want to show you a few things before your curfew.”

 _Curfew_. The word renewed the interest of a pack of techs a few tables over. They sniggered, and one said, a touch more loudly than necessary, that a cell was more efficient than a curfew. That one-- a burly man Kylo recognized as having been part of his escort from the docks-- locked eyes with him over the heads of his table mates, grinning wolfishly. 

Ren’s shoulders drew tight again. Noticing the shift, Rey gave a huff. Muttering to herself, she kicked back her chair and rounded the table, taking the seat opposite Kylo instead. 

“There.” She leaned in her seat, dragging her bowl across the table. “Happy?”

Rey wasn’t a small woman, but she couldn’t have hoped to cover him. His bulk spilled out around her, and straight-backed though she was, she wasn’t tall enough to block his face. Still, she was as solid a distraction as he could have hoped for. The obstacle of her back deflected the hall’s attention. Either deterred by it or too fond of Rey to go against her obvious wish, the gawking groups slowly went back to their food.

“I’ll live,” Ren mumbled when the last soldier finally looked away. “Thank you.”

Rey waved it off, picking up her spoon again. 

“Just eat, alright? And make it quick. This tastes like trash when it's cold.”

They finished eating in silence, each forcing down as much of the bitter liquid as they could. Rey was right. It was nearly inedible cold, but Kylo wouldn't leave it. If he turned his nose up now, he'd only be hungrier later. 

When they'd each drained their bowls, Rey called for a rusty service droid to clear the table and stood, motioning for Kylo to follow. Without checking to see if he was ready she made for the door, squeezing between tables. Ren had to hop over a few wayward chairs to catch up.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“For a walk.”

“Without the guards?”

The detail were still in their seats, a few tables from where he and Rey had been. Most were chatting, unaware of their ward’s position, but the Captain-- a thin, hard faced woman-- was watching them go. Head cocked curiously, she whistled for Rey's attention. When Rey turned, the woman began signing over the crowd. Rey signed back, then made a show of waving her commlink.

Kylo didn't follow the conversation. He had only a rudimentary understanding of signing, and the combination of the women's speed and unfamiliar form worked against him. Whatever was said, however, it placated the Captain. The woman nodded tersely and settled back into her seat, waving off those of her men who'd begun to take notice.

“Without the guards,” Rey repeated. “Unless you prefer having them.”

Ren scoffed. Of course he didn’t. They were cumbersome and shined a hard light on his captivity. Being free of them a while would be a welcome relief. That said--

“Dameron won’t like it. Wasn’t high security his decision?”

“Commander Dameron,” she corrected. “He’ll live. It’s only a few hours, and he trusts my judgement.”

“Even where I’m concerned?”

“Especially,” Rey said seriously. She reached the door to the mess hall first and held it open, ushering him through. “He’d have shot you on the docks if I hadn’t asked him not to.”

Kylo remembered the look on Poe’s face from the meeting-- his bright, dangerous eyes, and mean grin--, and thought it was a miracle the man hadn’t shot him anyway.

 

 

All considered, the rest of the day was rather pleasant.

Rey spent the first few hours guiding him around base. She weaved him slowly through the maze, showing him landmarks, teaching him the tricks of marking his path to prevent getting lost. Living spaces, he learned, were exclusively on the west end of the base; training and meeting rooms to the north; storage and the docks dominated the east and south.

“If nothing else,” she said, “You’ll at least know which sector to head for. From there it’s just a matter of finding the right room, and they’re almost always numbered.”

Kylo didn’t see a point to her telling him all this. He wouldn’t likely be wandering the halls without a guard, at least not any time soon. Poe had promised to eventually lengthen Ren’s leash, but it would be foolish to expect that to happen quickly. Still, being allowed to walk the halls like this was exhilarating. He hadn’t had so much space since leaving the First Order flagship; the shallow ache building in his legs from their wandering was lovely.

So he gave her his full attention, storing the major points away for later: his own room number and hers, the general direction of the mess hall and main war room. He answered quickly when she doubled back, quizzing him about something she’d mentioned earlier, and made sure to ask questions if she said something he didn’t follow. There was sure to be a direct correlation between his cooperation and the length of this little outing, and Ren wasn’t ready to be stuffed back into his hole.

As they walked, the base’s other inhabitants gave them a wide berth. For her own part, Rey seemed to choose their paths based on how deserted she expected them to be, and she did well. Still, it would have been impossible to avoid everyone. Over the course of the day, they passed roughly twenty other Resistance members, and only two-- Finn and a woman he introduced as Rose-- acknowledged them at all.

“How was the meeting?” Finn asked, wiping his greasy hands on a spare rag hanging from his pocket.

Rey shrugged. “Better than I expected. Ben gave us the coordinates of a couple bases, and the officers were talking them over when we left.”

“Easy targets?”

“They sound it, but you know how cautious General Organa has been recently. She might still think we don’t have enough fighters.”

Kylo winced at his mother’s name. The shock of her, alive and undoubtedly furious, was still fresh. Finn and Rey took no notice, absorbed in their conversation, but Rose’s eyes narrowed.

“Would you still have shot at her if you knew you’d see her again?” she asked, voice tight and cutting.

Ren stared at the unfamiliar woman, a little dazed. Rose was small but firm: her stance wide and rooted, arms relaxed but fists ready at her side. Where had they found her? Her directness shocked him almost as much as the question, and he didn’t know how to answer. He hadn’t shot at Leia. Someone else on his team landed the hit while he hesitated, but the distinction was pointless. The result had been the same. 

When he said nothing, Rose’s friendly face drew tight with disgust. 

“You’re a coward, Kylo Ren.”

Finn and Rey broke off at that, looking between Ren and their grimacing friend. After a few tense moments, Finn cleared his throat.

“We, ah--” he nudged Rose, breaking her concentration. “--we should get going. Didn’t you want to talk to Akiva about the new recruits?”

Rose still looked displeased, but nodded. 

“Us too,” Rey said. “But I’ll catch you up later, alright?”

Finn agreed, mumbling something about dinner, then pulled Rose along with him down the hall.

He and Rey walked in silence for a while after that. Their circuit was wide, running them around the edge of the docking bay, around to the glass front training rooms-- they stopped here a while, watching the new recruits practice hand-to-hand--, and back up to the tunnels Ren now recognized as leading to the living spaces. It was impossible to mark time in this maze. Like his ship it was old, had never been installed with a light gradient. Still, it must have been getting late. Back at the docks, Kylo had been able to sneak a look through the bay windows; even then the sun had been getting low. He wondered when his curfew began, and how anyone could keep track of it in the belly of the base.

They were still wandering the first hall of personal rooms when Rey’s commlink crackled to life in her pocket. She jumped a little, as though she’d forgotten about it, then quickly fished it free.

“Sorry,” she said, commlink pressed to her mouth, “Didn’t catch that.”

“I said ‘time check’,” the voice repeated. It came grainy through the line. “It’s 45 minutes to curfew, ready to regroup?”

Rey halted in the hall, chewing her lip. Her eyes skated over the doors, down the hall, along the ceiling, searching for nothing in particular. A low, buzzing energy was winding its way around her. She was considering something.

“Actually, we’re at his room now. I can just drop him off myself if you want to call it a night.”

Kylo glanced at the number above the closest door: 803. His own room was number 513, easily three halls away. If anything, they were closer to Rey’s, which should’ve only been four or five more down.

The line went dead a moment, and Ren imagined the men on the other end of it weighing their options. It was their responsibility to see him to his rooms, but the prospect of an early night would be sorely tempting.

“Captain Leena wants to ask if you’re sure. We can still come meet you and secure the room.”

Rey swallowed, her throat working slowly. Was she anxious?

“I’ll be fine, Captain,” she answered, keeping her tone light. “I’ll lock him in, and you can take back over in the morning.”

A few more seconds of silence, then the grainy voice returned. “Alright, if you’re sure. Call us if you have any trouble.”

“I will. Good night, Lin.”

The man-- Lin, apparently-- said good night as well, then signed off. When the line fizzled out, Rey stuffed her commlink back in her pocket. She stood, quiet and a little distracted, looking down the hall. Ren shifted, clearing his throat.

“I wouldn’t call this ‘right at’ my room.”

“Me neither,” Rey mused, “But there’s something I wanted to show you.”

Not bothering to elaborate, Rey started walking again. Kylo didn’t have to follow her long. They came to a stop again at the end of the hall, directly in front of door 818. Rey’s door.

“You already told me your room number,” Ren said carefully, a bubble of uncertainty rising in his chest.

“It’s more what’s in the room.” Rey tapped at the keypad and the door slid open. “Will you come in for a minute? I promise I’ll have you out before curfew.”

Kylo was less concerned with the curfew than going into the room itself. It was exceedingly rare for him to be invited into anyone’s personal space, for any reason at all. He was reminded again that she was a woman, had seen him half naked more than once now, and that they were physically quite different; by some standards, perhaps even compatible.

Rey didn’t seem to share his reservations. Once the door was open she dashed inside, motioning for him to follow. He lingered in it, hand against the frame, feeling childish and a prude. He was being ridiculous. 

“Quick,” she urged. “Before someone sees.”

That didn’t help, but Ren steeled himself and crossed into the room anyway. Once inside, Rey reentered her code on a corresponding keypad-- his own room didn’t have one. Had they ripped it out just before he arrived?--, and sealed them in.

The room wasn’t much different than his own. It was larger, but otherwise nearly identical in layout. There was a single bed, a desk, one spare door leading to the ‘fresher. It did, however, have the benefit of looking lived in. Rey’s clothes and spare boots rested in little piles around the room, and her staff propped in the corner served as a cloak rack. Maps and meeting minutes were tacked on the wall behind her desk, and strewn across it were pages of scratchy notes. On the back corner of her desk, restingly lovingly and untouched, were the broken halves of Luke’s old lightsaber. 

Ren’s heart clenched at the sight, and he tore his eyes away. He didn’t want to think of that damned saber, or how it’d come to be damaged.

“Sit wherever you like,” Rey offered. “This won’t take long.”

She went to the desk and began rummaging through the drawers, leaving Kylo to choose a seat. He cast around the room a second. The bed seemed too informal, and taking the only chair a little rude. Left with only the floor, he picked a spot on the mat at the room’s center, crossed his legs, and waited.

As promised, Rey didn’t take long. After a minute of noisy rooting, she found her prize with a cheerful _ha_! When she turned, she was cradling a leather sack. She sank to her knees on the mat in front of Ren, laying the bag between them carefully.

“What is it?” he asked as Rey settled, mirror his position.

“Some souvenirs from Ahch-To.”

Carefully, Rey reached into the bag, pulling out books a handful at a time; eight in total, when they were laid out. Their binding was ancient, broken in many places, and the pages looked unspeakably brittle. The embossing on the covers was all but faded away, leaving only the dullest imprints of letters and illustrations. Kylo’s brow furrowed, and he leaned in for a better look. He had seen most of Luke Skywalker’s books during his stint as apprentice, and none of these were familiar.

“Skywalker gave these to you?”

The long pause that followed told Kylo that no, that hadn’t exactly been the case.

“They weren’t his,” Rey said finally. “He just minded them. They’re the original Jedi texts. I found them in a library near the temple.”

Ren’s eyes blew wide, and he snapped his attention from the books.

“You _stole_ them from the temple library?”

“I don’t steal!” Rey’s cheeks darkened. “I borrowed them.”

Kylo barked a laugh. “With every intention of returning them, I’m sure.” 

His fingers flexed, scrunching the mat. He’d heard of these books. Supposedly they were the first of their kind, the spark of all future Jedi writings. They were the stuff of legend; Kylo would’ve never guessed they’d survived. _Stars_ , he wanted to hold one, run his fingers over its rotting cover, smell that ancient ink. If he begged, would she let him?

“Why?” he asked instead, his voice low and breathless.

“They weren’t doing any good there.” Her voice was defensive. Had she practiced this? “Just rotting in an old tree.”

He shook his head. That wasn’t what he meant.

“No. Why are you showing them to me?”

Rey’s breath caught, and her fingers began working against the mat. The fretful, buzzing energy Kylo had felt from her in the hall was creeping back. Whatever she’d been building to, this must have been it.

“When I left for Ahch-To,” she began guardedly, “I wanted something from Luke that I couldn’t have. And that’s fine. I’m fine with that now. But every day, every minute, I feel--” Her hand trailed halting up her thigh, her stomach, coming to rest over her chest. Her thin fingers tightened around the fabric there, as though she could hold herself in place. “I can feel something growing inside me, and I know it’s not going to stop. I don’t want it to.”

She dropped her hand, and Kylo followed it, his own breath snagging in his chest. Rey’s fingers came to rest on the dark cover of a book by his knee; his own ached to join.

“I don’t want to give up on this, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” Her eyes scrunched at the corners. “I thought if we read them together--”

“Together,” Kylo repeated, the word heavy on his tongue. “You’re looking for a new teacher.”

“I don’t want a teacher,” Rey said firmly. “I want a partner, someone I can learn with. I’ve only flipped through these, but there’s so much I’ve never heard of: techniques and forms, force abilities, how to make and repair weapons. If we both go through them, help each other train and practice, there’s so much we could learn.”

Rey’s eyes were bright and brimming, her hand still on the book. Her breath came quick, gently heaving her chest. Her fervor was hypnotic, catching. Ren’s own head felt light. Did her friends know about this plan? Did General Organa?

“Historically,” he muttered, “I haven’t been good at this.”

He gestured to the books, to the broken saber on her desk. He didn’t care to admit it, but it was true enough. He wasn’t like Luke, though he’d once wanted to be desperately.

“That doesn’t matter now,” Rey assured. “Not to me.” 

She scooted closer, her knees jostling the fragile books. Kylo felt weak again, caught between Rey’s body and the swirl of her chaotic energy. It was running circles around him, unchecked and overwhelming. If she were anyone else, Ren would think it was meant to cow him.

“I won’t force you,” she spoke again after a while. “But I don’t want to do this alone. If you could at least think about--”

“I want to do it.” 

The words tumbled out a touch too quick, too slight and pleading. Kylo nearly winced. Pathetic. But if Rey shared the sentiment, it didn’t show. She visibly relaxed, her breath smoothing out into a long, easy laugh.

“Good,” she managed through a grin. “I was starting to worry I was embarrassing myself.”

Ren shook his head, then-- slowly, carefully-- brushed his fingers across the book Rey was holding. The cover was rough and barken, its hard patches tickling the sensitive tips. He could have moaned.

“It’ll be different this time,” Rey promised, tracking his hand. “For both of us.”

An ambitious promise, Kylo thought; perhaps overly so. What was it Luke used to say about over ambition? Something cryptic: a burning out, death before reaching the mountain peak. Ren wasn’t a fool. Hungry as he was for this, he wouldn’t rest the whole of his hope in it. Anything and anyone could fail. 

But he and Rey were no strangers to the fact. They’d both failed before, with Luke as well as with one another, and surely that counted for something. Experience is an excellent teacher. Perhaps this time around they’d be able to keep their footing, and if not--

Well, if not, at least they knew what to expect upon hitting bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering when Rey is going to explain her chat with Leia, never fear! It's coming next chapter. Our girl just got a little distracted in this one.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Finn tries, Poe doesn't, and Rey finally fills Ben in.

_Kylo dreamt of a lake and Han, his father’s face shifting like sand. In an instant it was fresh and hard cut; in another, tired and heavy-jowled. No smooth transition or slow descent into old age. Kylo had missed that. The Han Solos he knew were polarities._

_Han was waiting at the edge of the lake with filthy hands and bare feet, trousers stained. He was cussing, his k’s coming crisp over the lapping water. Something was wrong with the Falcon._

_“Don’t tell your mother I let you under the hood.”_

_Han’s voice was clear and young, but his face was melting into smoker’s lines and sun damage. From somewhere above the scene, Kylo looked down at his own body. Eight, if that. Smeared all over with axle grease._

_“Come here.”_

_Kylo appeared at more than walked to his father. The man kneeled before him, rubbed hard at his little cheeks, cussed again._

_“Let’s clean you up, kiddo.”_

_Han fell in the wet sand, body thudding odd and hollow. Unnatural. Not right._

_“Ben,” his father said, looking up at him. Then again, “Ben.”_

_He didn’t want to sit. He could hear the slow rhythm of his heart. Once, pause, twice, pause. Why could he hear it?_

_Below him, Han’s face twisted. Old again, white brows, salted hair. Small liquid eyes, mouth turned down in both anger and miserable relief. He lifted his hand to make a fist, brought it down with a thunderous crack, screamed--_

“Ben! Seriously, answer me.”

Kylo started, body going live as the voice at the door broke through his sleep. His hands tightened around the mylar blanket, heart tripping. He hated being woken suddenly, hated more that he’d slept deeply enough to allow it. Light sleeping was a valuable trait, and one Snoke had worked cruelly to cultivate. 

“Finn?” Kylo called back, voice thick and groggy. “What is it?”

How long had Finn banged at the door? Long enough, Ren suspected, that the man could’ve entered without invitation and cut his throat. Hoisting himself onto his elbows, he cursed the lapse in his training. He would have to be more careful going forward. Not everyone on base was as guileless Finn.

“Finally,” the other man groaned, confirming Ren’s suspicions. “I’m coming in, alright?”

Kylo heard the beeps of the keypad, and didn't bother to answer. Whether he was ready or not, it seemed he had company. Kicking off the blanket, he swung his legs out of bed and rubbed gritty sleep from his eyes. He was still sitting, hunched and irritable, when Finn came hopping through the door.

“You sleep like the dead,” the other man teased.

“Not usually.”

“Long night?”

Ren peeked at the man through his fingers. He wasn't fond of mornings or conversations before breakfast, but Finn didn't seem to mind either. The younger man moved cheerfully around the room, pouring himself and Kylo a glass of water before settling at the desk. His eyes were bright, dark cheeks fresh and glowing. Damn him.

“Why are you here?” Kylo grumbled, taking the offered glass and draining it in a few deep pulls.

Finn sipped more politely at his own. He didn't appear to be put off by Kylo's mood. In fact, it seemed to amuse him.

“Not a morning person, huh? I'll try to remember.” The other man blotted his lips with his sleeve and set his cup aside. “The officers decided Crul is worth a shot and want to get planning. Poe’s running an informational this morning to bring everyone up to speed.”

Which meant that Ren was needed. Immediately, apparently. He put his glass down beside Finn's and scratched at his jaw. The skin there was coarse with stubble. He needed a shave and a shower, though likely had time for neither. Making a mental note to alter his routine-- nightly baths might be best, given how early everyone here seemed to rise--, Ren got to his feet.

“I’ll need to dress,” he said, opening the top drawer of his desk. He pulled out a spare undershirt and tunic and slung them over his shoulder. “May I have a minute?”

Finn nodded, hopping out of the chair. 

“No rush,” the other man assured. “I came early. Figured you’d want to stop for caf or something on the way.”

Kylo’s temper flagged at the suggestion. He hadn’t had caf since leaving the Order. How had they gotten hold of it out here, in the backwash of the galaxy? They must have paid dearly, or stolen it. Either way, Ren ached for the nutty taste.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I could use some, myself.” Finn jerked his head to toward the open door. “I’ll be with the guards. Just come out when you’re ready.”

Kylo watched the man’s back as he went. There was a long line of stitching up the back of the jacket, matching the patch Ren had noticed on the shoulder. He thought of blood and the smell of ozone, the electric sweep of his lightsaber between Finn’s shoulders. The wound would’ve been terrible, and the scar equally so. Did the knotted tissue still itch? 

“Finn,” Ren called, then immediately felt foolish. 

The man turned in the door, his expression patient. “Yea?”

Kylo thought back to his dream, and the mingling drum of Han and Finn’s fists.

“You called me Ben,” he said, voice dipped low, bottoming out just shy of suspicion.

What had the other man meant by it? He hadn’t the excuse of knowing Kylo before the moniker had been dropped, or of having connected with him as intimately as Rey. It could be some sort of power move, though to what end Kylo couldn’t guess. It was a long dead name, too rotten to sting. Besides, Finn didn't seem the type.

“Rey was using it,” the man responded, half turned in the door. “It sounds so similar that I thought I misheard, but when I realized--” The man pivoted into the room again. “I figured you asked her to since you turned, but if not…”

Ren resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Turned_. The notion was defunct. To what could Kylo turn now that there was only one Jedi, and what from, with Snoke butchered and buried? Still, his chest tightened at the other man’s uncertainty. Friendly eyes tracked between Kylo’s, seeking signs of distress. Believing him offended, Finn was already doubling back.

It was strange that his comfort held value to a man he’d nearly hewn. Strange, that the same man had watched his sickbed and tenderly, mercifully-- and it was a mercy, because shearing the knotted, filthy locks would’ve been more expedient-- washed his hair. It was easy to see why Rey cared for this man. Finn was unreasonably kind, and it made Ren’s gut ache.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said quickly, lifting a hand to signal surrender. “Call me what you like.”

Finn’s generous mouth turned back up.

“I like Ben.” He said it firmly, like a schoolboy defending his friend. Like many things about the man, it was utterly disarming. “But don’t think that means you can keep me waiting. Caf goes quick around here.”

Pointing first to the shirts on Ren's shoulder then the ‘fresher, Finn headed out of the room, dropping into the guard’s conversation. Still a little dazed, Kylo obeyed. He ducked under the low door, taking the corner near the shower head for privacy, and began tugging on his clothes.

As he dressed he thought of both Finn and Rey, and how strange-- though not wholly unpleasant-- that blasted name sounded when they said it.

 

 

 

“I want to make something clear,” Poe intoned. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”

Kylo arched a brow. Though the room was large Poe had swept in close, and the two men now stood toe to toe. Ren supposed he should be grateful for that. The meeting was set to start in minutes, and the room-- one of the training spaces Rey had shown him-- was packed. They were drawing a fair bit of attention now that Dameron was posturing, but at least whatever was said would be private at this close of range. Small favors.

“I didn’t assume so.”

“Good. Keep that up.” The man folded his arms, tilting his head to look Kylo square in the eyes. The few inches Ren had on the man were nothing; Poe had the presence of a titan. “I don’t know what you said to Rey and Finn to make them mushy, but it won’t work on me.”

“Finn?”

Kylo glanced to the side. The other man was sitting a few feet away, chatting with Rey over cooling caf. The woman’s affinity was no secret, though Ren was having trouble parsing out her motivations. Finn, however--

“You needn’t worry, Commander.” Ren tacked the honorific on like an afterthought, enjoying the twitch in Dameron’s eye. “He’s tending me as a favor to Rey. I’m nothing to him beyond that.”

Poe pulled back at that, his disbelief barely checked. His eyes tracked between Kylo’s for several long moments, then he scoffed.

“You’re an ass, Ren, you know that?” Poe shook his head, washing himself of the topic. “Let’s just get started. Don’t get comfortable; I’ll be needing you soon.”

Dameron turned and strode to the center of the room, calling for attention. There was a surge in noise as the assembly threw back their caf and stored the cups, found seats along the walls, finished conversations. Poe waited patiently for the room to settle before speaking.

“Morning,” he greeted finally, the irritable tone he’d used with Ren gone. “I want to thank everyone for being on time. I know it’s early, but we’ve got a lot to cover and I don't want to eat too much into the day.”

Poe motioned to a man in the back of the room. He hopped to his feet, smoothing out his tattered jumpsuit, and dragged a large duffel bag to Dameron’s side. Its contents clanked and tumbled, sounding wooden. Poe thanked the man quietly, and waited for him to return to his seat before continuing.

“For those who haven’t heard, General Organa has given us permission to move on the base exposed by our--” Poe paused, tonguing the flats of his teeth. Kylo could almost hear him running through a list of unflattering descriptors. “Informant.”

A few dozen sets of eyes flicked to Ren at that. He straightened his back, and kept his own firmly on Dameron. He didn’t need to look; he knew already what jeering expressions they’d be wearing.

“Which one, Commander?” a woman to Ren’s right asked. “Didn’t he give up two?”

Slowly, deliberately, Kylo pinched his fingers together, rubbing circles with his thumbs and forefingers. It was a distinct displeasure to be talked about as though he weren’t in the room. 

“He did,” Poe agreed, unaware or unconcerned with Ren’s discomfort. “While Voss is closer, we decided that Crul is the best first move. If the base is as stocked as it sounds, this could be the leg up we’ve been hoping for. New weapons, more fuel, better tech--” He paused, a genuine smile stretching out. “If we’re lucky, maybe even some goods to restock our pantry. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired of soup.”

A humorless laugh worked around the room. Kylo could sympathize; the food here truly was terrible. That the Resistance members managed to maintain energy and weight solely on the bitter soup was nothing short of miraculous.

“We’ve got the manpower for something this size,” Dameron said when the room settled again. “We’ve got the ships, and we’ve definitely got the need. What we don’t have is the home advantage. Show of hands: who here, besides Ren, has ever been on Crul?” 

No one stirred, and Poe nodded, looking unsurprised. 

“We’ve given ourselves a timeline. We’ll take two weeks, run intensive drills, hone the training of everyone in this room. You all were picked based on experience level, so I don’t doubt you. Still, making planetfall blind isn’t ideal, and that's where _you_ come in.”

It took Kylo several seconds to realize Poe was addressing him. When he caught the line, he fixed the other man with a questioning look. Dameron beckoned, then knelt to fish in the duffel bag. 

“You’re going to be our eye dog, Ren.” Poe pulled out a length of rope from the bag, draping it over one shoulder. “Come on,” he teased, smile wide and showing too many teeth to be friendly. “Don’t be shy.”

Kylo revisited the idea of punching the man. It would be easy with Dameron kneeling, and deeply gratifying to break those gleaming teeth.

 _Stop it_. 

Rey’s voice rang clear in his head. He glanced to the side, and saw her glaring over the top of Finn’s head.

 _Just do what he says_.

“Fine,” Kylo said aloud, out of habit more than anything. 

Rey looked momentarily horrified. Poe, however, seemed to think Kylo was responding to him.

“I appreciate the cooperation. Now--” the man worked the bag open wide, revealing a pile of mismatched wooden blocks before standing. “Talk to me about Crul.”

Kylo swallowed, set his jaw so hard the muscles ached, but did as he was told. He stepped deeper into the room, stopping short of the bag. Ignoring the heat of the assembly’s gaze, he called up the memories of his visits there.

“It’s a water planet,” he began, “Shallow seas, a few brackish bogs and lagoons. What little land there is shifts and melts with the tides, which complicated building a base. Still, we managed. After a few failed attempts, our workmen installed a series of durasteel stilts along one of the larger sandbars; the whole thing rests on those instead.” 

Poe’s humor was gone. The man now nodded along, hanging on Ren’s words as though he were giving a lecture. The attention was infectious. The room tightened as its inhabitants held perfectly still, unwilling to disturb the scene with even a slip of the boot. Kylo’s mouth went dry. He’d never been a good speaker. His voice was pleasant enough, deep and slow, but there was something vital missing in it. He hadn’t inherited Han’s purr, or General Organa’s tight control. Too often he tripped over his words or enunciated clumsily; without his vocoder, he felt naked.

“What’s it look like?” Poe asked, and Kylo was grateful for the spur. “The base. What’s the shape?”

“It’s circular. A dome.” Dameron bent and began laying the rope, working an arch around himself and Ren. Ah, so that was what it was for. He amended before Poe could close the circuit. “Two circles, actually. Separate buildings. The larger is the main base, and the smaller is for storage. They’re connected by a bridge approximately ten meters long.”

Poe worked quickly to complete the outline. When it was done, Kylo found himself standing in the larger end of what looked like a poorly balanced baton. He grimaced. It wasn’t the most accurate depiction, but it would do. Kneeling, he scooped out an armful of wooden blocks from the duffel bag and began placing them throughout the map, explaining as he went.

“There are three blast doors: one main entrance, one leading onto the bridge, and one for the storage unit. All have passcodes changed weekly, and are monitored by camera from the control room.” He placed the smallest block on the inside of the leftmost curve. “Its entrance is similarly protected, though once inside you should have no trouble taking it. There are only three personnel manning it at time. The problem--”

“Is getting in,” Poe finished.

Kylo nodded. 

“As I said, the entrances are well-guarded. Barring that, stealth will be almost impossible to maintain. There are halls leading to the barracks, mess, and training grounds--” He fanned out a few blocks along the opposite curve of the map. “But everything comes to a head in the atrium, in clear view of the control room. Even if you manage to sneak inside, you’d be spotted in minutes.”

Poe squatted next to the map, eyes sweeping it.

“Three blast doors,” he said slowly, “but this--” He tapped the block by his boot. “--goes to the training grounds. What’s that exit look like?”

Kylo’s brow furrowed. He didn’t actually know. The Trooper program was Hux’s purview, and Ren had never had reason to visit that area.

“I can’t be certain,” he admitted. “But I imagine it’s the same as any other Trooper-exclusive space. If so, there’d be--”

“A buzzer by the door,” Finn interrupted. “They don’t give you passcodes. It’s too many to keep up with, especially with the mortality rate.”

Poe turned his attention to Finn. “So what, you just push a button and it opens?”

“Not immediately. The buzzer alerts the control room, and someone checks the camera to make sure it’s actually a Trooper. Once they see the uniform, they unlock the door.”

Dameron hummed. “What do you think, big guy?” he asked, looking up a Ren. “Could we pull off going through the back?”

Ren took a count. Fifty were squeezed into the training room, which was about how many staff and Troopers would be on base. The match was preferable for when the event inevitably came to blows, but in terms of stealth…

“Not all of you, but a handful, maybe. You could stake out the training grounds, pick off stray Troopers for their uniforms while the rest waited in the lagoon.” Kylo crossed his arms, staring down at the map. “But that requires staying under the radar. If you’re caught before you can open the blast doors for reinforcements, you’ll be overrun.”

They’d also likely be executed on the spot, but that went without saying.

“Speaking of reinforcements, what about locals? Any chance we can count on them for backup?”

Unlikely, Ren thought. There were two native species on the planet, and both now gave the base a wide berth. There’d been dissent in the beginning from a few hulking Crolutes and their families, but that had been squashed rather cruelly. After a dozen nighttime attacks on the base, still then in its first months of operation, General Hux had authorized a controlled chemical spill into the surrounding waters. The effect on the aquatic species was immediate and largely fatal. Those living in the region that survived fled to other lagoons, and those that hadn’t--

Kylo thought of the soft, milky bodies left floating. The sight and smell of their slow rot had been overwhelming, but Hux insisted on leaving them as a warning. And it had worked. Neither Crolute or Gilliand had come near the base since.

“The Order made a strong first impression,” Ren said carefully.

Poe's face darkened. “I'm sure they did.”

A thick silence fell between them. Kylo wondered what Dameron was imagining, and if it could possibly be worse than reality.

“They weren't eradicated."

“I’m familiar with First Order tactics, Ren. Something tells me that escaping with their lives didn't feel like luck.”

Kylo swallowed, imagining the smattering of children that'd been in the water as well, not yet skilled enough at swimming to get away. Caught in the cross-hairs, their small bodies bobbing like apples.

“No,” he ceded. “It probably didn't.”

 

 

The rest of the meeting passed quickly. With the map complete, Poe had no further use for Kylo, and after opening the floor for discussion dismissed him.

Ren wasn’t asked to leave again, though this time he wouldn’t have minded. At the preliminary meeting he'd been distracted, his mind pulled in a thousand directions-- General Organa, the bases, Rey's thin fingers at his elbow. This time, however, it'd been impossible to ignore the boring eyes of his audience. He could feel them on his back even as he retreated, and felt sick.

Thankfully, he was saved the embarrassment of finding a seat. Rey and Finn had reserved one between themselves, and waved him down after his release. Small favors, Ren thought again, hopping over the map to get to it. At least he wouldn't have to crouch near an openly hostile stranger.

The room was awash with noise now: Poe taking questions and suggestions, groups of soldiers creeping up to the map on their knees to bicker over it. Everyone else chatted among themselves, waiting for attention to be called again. Ren wondered if this was standard. He'd been too young before to be allowed in meetings; had Leia led her own this way? It seemed too disjointed for his mother's tastes. Then again, Kylo supposed that Poe had fewer choices than she did then. There were so few top rankers left to consult in the Resistance now. Dameron would have to make due with what he had.

Ren slid down the wall, slotting himself between Finn and Rey. It was a tight fit, hardly accommodated his bulk, but having his back to something solid was a relief. The warm press of of their flanks wasn’t unwelcome either. Kylo never cared much for contact-- had more often than not pulled away from his parents when they came too close--, but this twin heat was anchoring. It snapped the tension that being so publicly displayed had knit between his shoulders, and Ren felt himself beginning to relax.

“Here," Finn said after he'd settled, pulling a half-finished cup of caf from between his knees. “It’s not hot anymore, but--”

The other man trailed off with a shrug and held out the cup. Kylo took it, and did his best to school his surprise. He’d left the cup behind when Poe had barked for him before the meeting adjourned, and had nearly forgotten it. 

“You kept it,” he said flatly.

“You weren’t done. Besides, I figured you’d need it after--” Finn gestured to the open floor, and Dameron’s tall, lean figure. “He can be hard on newcomers.”

 _Newcomers_. How diplomatic.

“Thank you,” Kylo murmured, sincere but a little discomfited by the growing imbalance of favors between them. 

Finn waved it off and returned his attention to the floor, content to watch the drama around the map play out. Grateful for the other man’s distraction, Ren relaxed against the wall, cradling his cup.

He passed the next several minutes peacefully: listening to the more seasoned soldiers argue with Dameron, watching those along the wall whisper, taking swigs of his bitter, cold caf. It was an odd dynamic, no doubt the fault of how tumultuous the last few months had been. The hardships they'd shared had knocked standard procedure on its side, but none of them seemed to mind. Not even Poe, who was spending more time butting heads with his chosen team than was strictly necessary.

“He likes that part best, I think.”

Kylo started, sloshing his caf. Rey had been sitting so quietly that he’d almost forgotten her. It took several seconds for the meaning of the words to register, but when they did--

“You’re getting better at that.” He licked the rim of his cup, cleaning the spill. “Who have you been practicing on? It can’t just be me.”

A smirk played at the corner of Rey’s mouth, and she dodged the question. “You aren’t going to scold me for spying?”

“Masters scold. Fellow students are, by necessity, more permissive. Or have you changed your mind?”

A warmth bled out from Rey’s thigh, pooling at the base of Ren's spine. They’d agreed to the relationship less than a day ago, but the acknowledgement of it seemed to reassure her. How long had she hoped for a partner, an ally in her studies? 

Probably, Kylo’s mind supplied treacherously, as long as he had.

“Of course I haven’t.”

“Then I’ll trust you to experiment with your talents, and hope you return the favor.”

Rey smiled, but there was something tight in it. _Trust_. She was fixating on the word. Kylo could hear her turning it over in her mind like a stone.

“I have something to tell you,” she said suddenly.

His grip on the cup tightened fractionally. "Your timing could stand to be improved.”

She fussed with the fraying ties of her boot. "It's what Leia-- General Organa said to me yesterday.”

Kylo felt the tension creeping back into his shoulders. He’d forgotten about that, swallowed up as he'd been by Rey as she led him, invited him, confided in him. The shift had been heady, her excitement so palpable and infectious he’d been able to think of nothing else.

“Don’t be angry,” she soothed. “I meant to tell you, but I didn’t want you to worry all day--”

“Worry,” he interrupted, testing the word on his tongue.

Rey carried on as though she hadn’t heard. “--and after a while I got...distracted.”

“I know the feeling,” he mumbled. “So, what was your little chat about?”

The words came harsher than he meant, and Rey shrunk back. Ren blew out a slow breath to center himself.

“I’m not angry,” he said stiffly, taking care to keep his mind open. He’d never been good at this, and would prefer her to just take what she needed. “I’d just like to know. Please.”

Rey gave him a long look, but didn't dip into his mind. She thought again of the word trust, then shifted her weight, angling to face him.

“She wants to meet with you.” 

Kylo's mouth went dry, and he wished desperately that he had something other than caf to drink. Whatever he'd expected, that wasn't it.

“Alone, I presume.”

Rey nodded. “I’m supposed to escort you to her rooms tonight.”

Of course she was. “Did she say why?”

“Can't you guess?”

Kylo could think of several reasons Leia might want to see him, starting with his destruction of the Jedi Order and ending with the deaths of her husband and brother. As though she'd heard the thought-- and probably she had-- Rey frowned.

“She's your mother, Ben.”

“And Han was my father. What difference does it make?”

Rey's eyes darkened, and Kylo regretted saying it. Han’s death had been hard on her, and would likely be a matter of contention between them for some time. Whatever she felt at that moment, however, it passed quickly.

“I can’t go in with you, but I could wait at the door. Would that help?”

It wouldn't if the General planned on cutting his throat. Still, it’d be a comfort to feel Rey's energy through the walls, or catch a wandering thought as she wasted time.

“I don't mind,” she assured when he didn't answer. “But I swear nothing will happen to you either way.”

It was an empty promise, but a kind one. Ren could appreciate that.

Sighing, she turned to lay her back against the wall again. “Just think about it, and try not to worry for now. It’s still hours away.”

Ren mirrored her pose, focusing once more on the crowd around the map. Rey was right; he knew she was. There was no point in running himself in circles, fretting over this. Leia would have her way regardless. She always did. 

The only thing to do now was wait, and hope that when the time came her could meet her terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and Ben's meeting with Leia were originally going to be one chapter, but the plot got away from me. That's probably for the best, though. This'll give their reunion plenty of time to shine. Tune in next week for family drama!
> 
> Also, Ben and Finn will be friends if it kills me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia was, against all probability, exactly as Kylo remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but I don't think that detracts from it too much. I really wanted to focus on giving Leia and Ben a solid, believable reunion, so let me know what you think! I'm happy to hear it.
> 
> Also, as a warning: I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about Leia's Force sensitivity and the myriad of traits she shares with her father, and my biases there certainly slipped in.

Leia was, against all probability, exactly as Kylo remembered.

He and Rey arrived at her door minutes before curfew, which Ren supposed was suspended this evening; few things outweighed a summons from the General. Still, the close cut made the back of his neck prickle. So far he’d done well at keeping his head down, and the prospect of being caught out after hours didn’t thrill him. He had precious few privileges to revoke for the offense, but didn’t doubt that Dameron would think of something.

Thankfully, General Organa didn’t keep them waiting. Moments after Rey’s sharp rap at the door, the beep of her keypad could be heard through the durasteel. Slow, measured blips, as though she were considering each number. Kylo set his breaths in time with the sound, and willed the knots in his gut to uncoil. 

“You’ll wait?” he asked, eyes trained on the door.

“Of course,” Rey assured. “But try not--”

Whatever she was going to say was cut short by the door cracking open. It split from the center, halves receding into the ceiling and floor with a deep, metallic whine. The noise spoke to the base’s age, of all the long winters it spent empty. Before the Resistance reclaimed it, how long had this place sat untouched? How long since the locals had bothered warning their children about the dangers of wandering into the unmapped maze? 

Kylo wouldn’t bother to guess. This wondering was merely accessory, a distraction from the main event: the doorway open in a great yawn around a woman Ren had never dreamt of standing so close to again.

Leia Organa-- should he call her Leia? General, perhaps-- was as regal as ever. She stood straight and proud, the wide hem of her gown pooling like dark, deep water at her feet. Her gray hair was pulled back and neatly braided, two thick twisting plaits resting atop like a crown. Mourning braids, a tradition of grief. Something Kylo had read about in childhood studies and filed away, never expecting to need.

That she’d aged was no secret before, but it showed more clearly this close. Her lined face, the blunted color of her eyes, and the softening of all her angles were a monument to lost time. She’d still been young when Kylo saw her last, sharp shouldered and slim-waisted, wrapped in lean muscle. The General looked more like a dowager than a soldier now. Still, she was no less intimidating for the fact. Her fiery will, which had cowed her enemies all these long years, hadn’t banked just yet. Even in this frozen pit Ren could feel it, and it took more courage than he’d have liked to keep still.

“General,” Rey greeted, her smile an audible thing.

Leia’s eyes flicked from Ren to the woman at his side, and the hard line of her mouth broke. She returned Rey’s smile, looking several years younger for it.

“Good to see you, Rey. Do you have a minute?”

Rey nodded, and Leia shifted in the door to clear a path. She glanced back to Kylo, her expression stony again, and he found himself wondering at her control. His own face betrayed even the slightest shift in emotion, making his mask a valuable asset before its destruction. But the General was the master of hers; he couldn’t guess what she felt when she looked at him.

“In,” she commanded, gesturing over her shoulder.

His shoulders drew tight at the familiar, harsh tone. He’d heard it thousand times for a slew of offenses: playing with Han’s weapons, instigating fights, feeling out the dark corners of his then budding powers. But that seemed a lifetime ago now, or to have happened to some other woman and child. There was too deep a divide between them now for it to have only been-- what, fifteen years, twenty?

Ren shook the thought. He was stalling, and if he recognized it then so did the General. She’d always been good at picking his motives apart. Sparing Rey a final glance, he stalked by Leia and into the room.

The General didn’t immediately follow, and Ren took the time she spent with Rey to acquaint himself with the room. Unlike the others he’d seen, which were all single living spaces, it was a series of connected rooms. Whoever it’d originally been for, they were clearly the height of importance in the architect’s mind. Through a barely cracked door on the left were sleeping quarters, a large ‘fresher to the right, and a sitting room lined with benches through the back. All of it fed out from the office where he stood, which alone was larger than his and Rey’s rooms combined. Several chairs peppered the open floor, but otherwise the room was tidy. Barely lived in, as though its owner preferred working elsewhere. A cloak rack in the corner, a large desk in the center lined with books, and--

Kylo’s breath snagged as his eyes landed on a small stand by the desk. Two thick white candles, not yet lit, were mounted in steel candlesticks. Their wide bases tapered nearly to nothing at the waist, flared again to form a flat top where the candle could puddle out. Between the sticks was a tray, its cloth cover tented over what Ren knew was plaited bread, and above that a kiddush cup. All of it clean and gleaming, the high shine belying age. These were relics, passed down like jewels through the dark tunnels of history. 

Behind him the door clamped shut, breaking Kylo’s study. After waiting for the atonal ding of the lock, Leia slipped by without a word. Her heavy gown brushed the back of his hand, and he was surprised to find it coarse. Not unlike his own cloak, which Ren wished he’d brought along. He felt, as many before him had in Leia’s presence, hopelessly underdressed.

The General kept her silence and approached the table. Slipping a lighter from her sleeve, she struck its flint. Kylo watched, rapt as she lit the wicks, drew her hands around them once, twice, three times, disturbing the smoke. He thought of other nights on distant planets: Leia’s hands over her eyes as she chanted, Han’s fingers in Kylo’s hair as the man blessed him, all three of them circled to make kiddush, sipping the wine.

Had she done this alone each week since he and Han had left? Surely there were others she could invite, but perhaps not. Kylo remembered a few dozen faces, men and women that participated on rotation, but that had been years ago. Who could say if any of them had survived this long? 

“You used to love these candles,” Leia said finally, returning the cup to the head of the stand. When had she finished that part? Kylo’s attention was wandering. “Always wanted to peel the wax off the sticks after. Do you remember?”

He did, vividly. Even now he could feel the dull ache in his fingers from scraping and the cakey build-up of wax beneath his nails. But what he’d loved best was still a day away: the woven candle, the warm smell of spices, and the wet sizzle of wicks drowned in wine.

The General exhaled, slow and weary. Kylo had taken too long. 

“Sit.”

Kylo obeyed, taking the chair nearest her desk. Once he was settled, Leia turned from her candles. She didn’t sit herself, or even lean against the desk at her back. She stood, straight as ever, observing.

Ren’s fingers tightened around the fabric at his knees. The General was a small woman, a full foot shorter than himself now that he was grown, but still she managed to tower over him. Kylo wished she would have a seat, or round her desk to put some distance between them at least. Having her so close and looking down the line of her nose made him feel impossibly slight.

“You look,” she muttered, more to herself than Ren, “ _exactly_ like I remember.” A pause, then she shrugged. “Well, maybe a little taller.”

Kylo let out a small, involuntary huff. There was a leak somewhere and it was sucking all the air from the room. He felt faint. 

Leia shifted, growing impatient. “Now would be an excellent time to say something.”

Ren chewed his lip. He remembered when he’d first learned of Luke and Leia's parentage, how he’d spent hours pouring over old accounts and histories of Darth Vader. He'd been struck then by how similar she and Vader were, how she mirrored him in ways that Luke never could. Both had shirked their esteemed stations to serve instead, cutting their way through dissent and dragging their chosen sides up with them; both running-- always running-- full-tilt to the next planet, next battle, knuckles wrapped in the raw edge of rage. 

Leia Organa was at once a pillar of strength and temper and deep, creeping sadness: her father's child in every way. And how often has this scene played out? Some squeamish underling caught like a fly in Lord Vader's disdain, tumbling down the line to one snagged in Leia's, and now this: an errant son and a mother who would yield nothing. Not in a mood like this.

Kylo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “What do you want me to say?”

Leia's expression softened at the sound. She'd only heard him speak a few times since he'd arrived, and the novelty of it hadn't yet worn off.

“Tell me something I don't know.” Leia relaxed, finally propping herself against the edge of the desk. “Should be easy. Poe tells me you're full of interesting facts these days.”

“I thought mothers knew everything.”

Kylo bit his tongue. It was an inappropriate thing to say, but Leia took it in stride.

“Try anyway,” she drawled, and her tone brooked no argument.

Ren worked his fingers tighter into the fabric of his pants. Over a decade of separation had lent him mystery, but no part of it seemed wise to share. Not if he wanted to keep his head. He cast around for something safe that would still hold her interest, and thought of his interaction with Rose the day before.

“It wasn’t me,” he said, then shook himself, clarified: “I didn’t shoot the bridge.”

The shot had been cleared for him by flanking pilots, but still, he hadn’t taken it. He couldn’t. Not when he’d felt Leia’s electric signature sweeping out from it, knowing she’d picked up his scent as well. She might not be as strong with the Force as some, but she was no stranger to it. Though mostly prone to dreams and visions, she’d always been an uncannily skilled tracker. It would’ve been easy to chalk that up to her military experience, but Kylo knew it was more than that. General Organa could read and trace energy as well as Ren could. No one, himself included, had ever been able to hide from her long.

Leia hummed. If the confession surprised her, she hid it well. 

“Why not?”

It was an ugly, transparent question. Kylo scoffed at it, feeling some of his daring return. What was the point in toeing around the subject? Or the dead, for that matter?

“Why not finish the job, you mean?” He leaned forward in his chair, mouth twisted in a scowl. “Why not complete the set?”

Leia jerked upright, something wild flashing behind her eyes, and Ren heard the slap before he felt it. It was a full swing, hard and reactionary, and the force of it broke his root. He swayed in the chair, panting as much from shock as the sting. Had she ever hit him before? Not that he could remember.

Leia’s eyes blew wide and she snatched her hand away, clutching the neck of her gown. Kylo followed it, honing in on the large silver ring on her finger. That explained the throb in his cheekbone. He raised a hand to map the tender edges of what would surely be a bruise and let the pain clear his mind. 

_Idiot_ , he thought, wincing when his fingers found the focal ache. It wouldn't do to forget his tenuous position, or how easy it would be for Leia to order his execution.

“I shouldn’t have,” he mumbled, by way of apology.

“No,” Leia agreed breathlessly. “I shouldn’t have either.” 

She laid her hand on the desk, snuffing out the tremble in her fingers with a vicious grip on its edge. Kylo thought of all the times Han had borne that burden instead, let the General take his hand and squeeze. Did she think of that often? Was she thinking of it now?

“I dreamt of him,” Ren confessed, much to his own surprise. “Last night.” 

Leia looked thrown by the change of topic. “A good dream?”

“I think so.” His brow furrowed as he chased the memory. “There was a lake. He must’ve taken me there as a child. He was...swimming, I think.”

The General tapped her blunt nails on the desk, looking just over Kylo’s shoulder. It was several long minutes before she spoke again, the stretch peppered with the creaks of Ren’s chair legs as he adjusted, restless. When she addressed him, her voice was thick and low.

“Do you regret it?”

And there it was: the ugly core of this exchange, exposed like a nerve.

“Does it matter? Your husband is dead, regardless.”

“He wasn’t just my husband,” Leia snapped, then re-centered, pressed on more coolly. “He was your father. Of course it matters.”

Kylo chewed the inside of his cheek, considering his next move. The space around them seemed to be closing, drawing in tight, and she was staring down at him again. One hand clenched and released the desk like a heartbeat, the other in a fist at her side. Ren thought again of Darth Vader, and wondered how anyone could’ve believed her to be another man’s child.

It wouldn’t do to lie now. The General would smell it like blood, and whatever she was attempting to establish here would shatter. Kylo wasn’t oblivious. Leia didn’t have to request his company tonight or let him watch as she lit the candles, and he didn’t want to disgrace the gesture. Barring that, he also didn’t want to lie. Not about this. Still, the words snagged like bone in his throat.

“There are several things Snoke asked of me that I wouldn’t do again,” he said cautiously.

It wasn’t exactly what Leia wanted, but she accepted it, nodding slowly. Her jaw worked, muscles jumping beneath the skin, and her eyes glassed.

“I can’t begin to explain,” she said, voice tremulous, “how _angry_ I am with you. Sometimes I think I--”

She broke off, her eyes clamping shut against the thought, but it read clear in the stiff lines of her: disappointment and the early, hot burn of hate. So close to the surface now, so palpable that when she raised a hand Kylo flinched.

Leia froze, looking insulted and ashamed. “I won't hit you again.”

The words were soft and assuring, so at odds with the anger curling out from her like smoke. Ren didn’t believe her, but held still, not wanting to provoke her. Slowly, as though approaching a wild animal, Leia laid her hand on his face. She cupped his jaw, stroked the cut of his cheekbone, going lightly over the blooming bruise.

“Does it hurt?”

Her brows scrunched in genuine concern, and something in Kylo’s chest cinched tight. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, leaning into the touch now that it proved harmless. Her hands were soft, smelled of lotion and wild, growing things. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like this. “May I say something?”

 _Mother, may I…_ his mind echoed. A game, something plucked from childhood like the sweet smell of Leia’s hands. She tensed, nails scraping against his cheek, the pulled back with a nod. Ren straightened in his chair before continuing.

“I thought of you. Of this.” He motioned to the candles slowly burning beside her, little pools of wax beginning to spread out from their bases. “Not often. It was--”

Kylo cycling through his options. _Forbidden_ made him sound too passive of a player, and _a distraction_ too weak-willed. Neither was accurate. 

“It wouldn’t have helped,” he settled on. “But I still did, now and then.” 

“You didn’t do this yourself, I take it.”

He shook his head. Such traditions hadn’t been part of Snoke’s vision. He indulged ritual where he couldn’t avoid it, but to allow Kylo something so personal, so steeped in familial history would’ve been counterproductive. Snoke had taken great pains to reinvent Ren and his fellow Knights; had Kylo dared to ask, the request would’ve been summarily rejected.

He redirected, not wanting to squirm under the thought any longer. 

“You asked why I didn’t take the shot. Would you like the truth?”

Another nod, this one smaller, less certain. Leia was resting hard against her desk now, losing ground as Ren gained it, warming to the theme now.

“I never resented you,” Kylo admitted, the words bitter on his tongue. “Not like I did them.”

He’d been angry at her, miserable to be sent away, but the pain of separation had been nothing in comparison. Leia had always been gentle and encouraging, interested in the widening scope of his abilities until she’d sensed danger. She wasn’t like Han, who spoke of the growing awareness in his son like a sickness. Not like Luke, who clung so desperately to the past that it was difficult to know who the man saw when he looked at you.

“They weren’t bad men,” she said dolefully. “They were afraid.”

“Of me.”

“For you. If you ever have children, you’ll understand.”

Leia pushed off the desk and turned, facing the small stand again. Kylo watched her fuss with the edges of the plate cover, her dull nails tracing the embroidery there.

“I am angry,” she repeated, a hint of fire in her voice again. “And I probably will be for a very long time.” She took the corners of the cover and folded it back, exposing the braided loaf beneath. “That said, I’d resigned myself to never seeing you alive again. It’s… good, having you close.”

The General tore off a chunk of bread, cradling it in her palms. She kept her eyes on it when she turned, as though drawing strength from the broken braids. 

“I wanted to see you, and now I have. I'd like to again, but I won’t make you, or ask you to stay now if you’d rather go. You are--” she paused, transferred the bread to one hand. “--proving valuable already, and I won’t compromise that for personal reasons.”

Kylo’s heart leaped at the prospect of escaping, getting to Rey where she waited just outside the door. He could go to her, discuss this surreal, off-kilter exchange as she escorted him to his rooms, put distance between himself and Leia. It would be the wisest option. The space between himself and his mother was slick with blood; inviting further conversation could only go one messy way. 

Leia looked up to face him, eyes dark and earnest. It was only the two of them now, he realized. There was nothing left of her family but old candlesticks and a son who'd pierced her husband through the heart. She must have been lonely, all these weeks and months. Terribly so. The thought was crippling.

Wondering how quickly he'd regret the decision, Kylo sat back deeper in his chair. “Will you please sit?”

Stunned by the choice-- had she already steeled herself for rejection?-- Leia said nothing, but drew a spare chair close. She gathered her dress and took a moment to settle. Crossing her legs at the ankles, she returned her attention to the bread in her hand. She turned it over several times, then held it out between them. Kylo licked his lips then reached for it slowly, giving her time to rescind the offer. But Leia held her ground, let him tear a hunk free, and watched raptly as he popped it in his mouth. The sight snapped a line of tension in her shoulders, and she slouched in her chair a little, pulling off a chunk for herself. 

They chewed in silence, Kylo savoring the almost-forgotten taste and Leia watching his jaw work. It was only when they’d both swallowed that she spoke again.

“Tell me something else.”

Her voice was soft, nearly a whisper, and she held out the bread again like an offering. 

Kylo ripped off another piece, and thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Organas and Solos are Jewish, sorry I don't make the rules. 
> 
> Good Shabbos from your local, not-so-Saturday-frum fic writer! And if you want to come cry with me about Star Wars, please do: I'm cryptid-coalition on tumblr.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Poe plans, and Rey and Kylo hit the books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a split between advancing the Crul mission plot and good, old fashioned blossoming student romance. Or, you know, as close to romance as we can get this early on. (I have to confess: the plot has ballooned to around 21 chapters now, so this still qualifies as "early on".)
> 
> Thanks to everyone that's kept up with the story, and those that are just now catching up. I adore hearing all of your opinions.

Apparently having worked through the night, Poe had an agenda at the door of all those chosen for the Crul mission the next morning. The chips he’d stored it on were no larger than a fingernail, but were packed to the brim with data; dozens of files and crudely drawn images that took most of the group a full day to read through. 

They’d been divided into teams of five based on experience and complementary skill sets. The team listings were at the head of each chip drive, and plan for each day followed, arranged carefully around group rotations. Beginning promptly after breakfast and ending mid-afternoon, each team sparred, ran maneuvers, and prepped their weapons and gear on a circuit. Everything was lovingly arranged and had been timed to the minute. No repeated tasks, no overlap, and thirty or so minutes between to allow for recoup. 

The lead-up was admittedly very thorough. Knowing Poe's track record made it difficult to believe this was entirely the man's work, but it must have been. No other superior officer was assigned to the mission. It seemed responsibility had finally sobered him; Dameron’s rapid-fire style had cost the Resistance before, and he was no longer as eager to repeat the performance. Were Dameron on the Order’s payroll, his restraint would’ve earned him even Hux’s praise.

The only part of the plan that gave Ren pause was the fact that his own name was on it. Kylo expected to learn of the Crul plans by proxy, through Rey’s descriptions of training or by skimming her agenda. At best, he thought he might be brought in to refresh the team’s memory as training progressed. He was, after all, the eye dog.

What he hadn’t expected was to be handed his own copy of the agenda when Captain Leena, head of his security detail, woke him the morning of its delivery. Or to be loaned a datapad to read it on, and ordered to study in preparation for first session. Despite Poe's dislike, Ren must have something besides intel that the man needed. Force abilities, perhaps. Though Rey’s were growing, she didn't have the benefit of years of training. She could drag them out for minutes at a time, but Kylo doubted she could keep them fully engaged in battle.

The prospect of stretching his legs off planet was thrilling, as was Dameron’s concession. There were few battles of will Ren could win here, which made this small gain all the sweeter. So much so that he dared to tease about it when he saw the man next. 

He and the rest of the Crul squad were gathered in a training room, waiting for the Commander to call order. It was the morning after the agenda’s release, and they’d come to be introduced to their teams. Rey and Finn had walked Kylo here along with his escort, and the three had spent the last few minutes waiting against the wall. Rey and Finn chatted happily about something or other, and Ren, only half listening, scanned the crowd for Dameron’s dark head. When he caught sight of it against the opposite wall, he excused himself and weaved through the crowd to met him.

Poe tensed as he watched Kylo approach, kicking off the wall to stand at attention when Ren stopped in front of him. It was a familiar pose, reminiscent of Hux’s own tight-shouldered distrust.

“I’m touched, Commander,” Kylo said by way of greeting. He kept his tone light, affecting wonder. “I wasn’t aware you trusted me to leave base.”

Dameron’s lip curled viciously, but Kylo didn’t back down. He was comfortable with contempt, enjoyed the game that could be made of milking it out. It was the hallmark of many relationships, personal and professional, and it was rousing to find a new player. So much had changed the last few months, but this was a maintainable foothold, something to anchor him to who he’d been before coming here.

“I don’t trust you to shit in the toilet,” Poe spat. “But I need your eyes. You’re the only one here who knows that base.” The man’s scowl turned up at the corners, exposing a few teeth. “Besides, if this turns out to be a disaster I want you with us. Facing a firing squad will be a lot easier if I know you’re next in line.”

Dameron shoved by him before he could respond, whistling for the room’s attention. As everyone settled, Rey caught Kylo’s eye and beckoned him back. He obeyed, making sure to meet Poe’s gaze as he crossed the room again. The man pursed his lips, and seemed to toy with the idea of spitting at Ren’s feet. 

Kylo thought again of Armitage, wondering what color Poe would turn if he began keeping a list of the men’s similarities.

Open hostility aside, Dameron had no interest in complicating Kylo’s involvement in the mission. He'd placed him in a team with both Finn and Rey, who stood between him and the two other members; a man and a woman, siblings by their look. They were friendly with Rey and Finn, calling the two by name and swapping gossip, but glared hotly at Kylo whenever they could. His presence trumped whatever they felt for the others, and it was clear neither cared for their assignment. They might’ve even approached Poe about it had the man not addressed the issue early.

“These teams,” he said seriously, “are your family until the mission is complete. Over the next few weeks you’ll eat, train, and work together. When it’s time, you’ll fly out and make planetfall _together_.” 

Poe swept his eyes around the room, letting them come to rest in the corner where Kylo’s team stood. He looked at each of them in turn before continuing.

“I expect some of you will butt heads, and that’s fine. You can’t always like the people you work with. But just know: there’s no one in this room that I think shouldn’t be. Believe it or not, each person on your team has something you need, and if you can’t bring yourself to trust one of them, then at least trust me. And please--” He addressed the siblings in Ren’s group directly now. “--try not to kill each other. I need as many feet on the ground as I can get.”

The siblings squared their jaws, and for a moment Kylo thought they'd protest. After sharing a hard look, however, they both gave Dameron a stiff nod. 

“Thank you,” Poe said sincerely. “In the interest of making our deadline, let’s get started. You have your schedules; stick to 'em, and we just might make this happen.”

With that Dameron scattered them, leaving each group to fumble with their schedule. It was well after breakfast already, the first day having gotten off to a slow start. Tomorrow they’d run the full cycle, but today--

“We’ve missed our flight exercises for the day,” said the unfamiliar woman, her accent too thick in the middle for Basic. A native speaker of something else, though what Ren couldn’t guess. “And our time on the shooting range.”

“Straight to sparring, then,” the man-- definitely her brother, now that Kylo heard their strange, twin accents-- cut in, tugging the woman’s datapad closer to himself. “Hope you’ve all done your stretches.”

“Always do,” Finn teased, flashing a friendly smile, and Rey agreed, making a show of rolling her shoulders.

“What about you?”

Kylo tore his eyes away from Rey’s strong back, almost embarrassed to have been caught tracking the slow flex of muscle through the woman’s shirt. Which, of course, was foolish. She was a teammate, and a fellow student besides; if they were to train together, having knowledge of her body was essential. How else could he estimate her limits? 

Still, he didn’t like how the man’s brow arched when he finally gave his attention. “Kylo Ren, right?” 

The man’s voice was tight through his teeth, but his pose was relaxed; arms at his side, hands unclenched, stance wide but restful. He held himself like a man used to throwing the first punch, but was clearly working to follow Poe’s instruction. Ren could appreciate that. The man was shorter by only an inch or so, and nearly his equal in build. If he swung a sturdy fist, Kylo didn’t doubt it would hurt.

“Yes.”

The man kissed his teeth. “I’m Kit, and this is my sister Delia.”

Kylo looked over Kit’s shoulder at the woman. Delia’s hands were on her narrow hips, her nose scrunched in disgust. 

“Pleasure,” Ren said flatly.

The siblings snorted, nearly in sync.

“No need for that,” Delia drawled. “Just keep in line, yea? And when we spar, don’t make us hit you for real. You won’t like it.”

He couldn’t imagine what he’d do to prompt a real fight, but given who he was, he supposed they wouldn’t need much goading. Ren’s eyes darted to the wall where Rey and Finn now stood. Both were propped there, watching the scene play out, and neither-- damn them-- bothered to acknowledge him. He resigned himself to navigating the murky water alone, and looked between Kit and Delia as he spoke.

“I’m not here to pick fights,” he assured.

“Why are you here?”

Rey pressed off the wall, stepping in at that. 

“Didn’t you say we’re due for sparring?” she asked, peeking over Kit’s shoulder at the agenda. “60 credits says Chayyim is overseeing that, and you know what he’s like. We should get going if we don’t want to be late.”

Whatever Chayyim’s reputation, it was enough for the siblings to drop the question. Kit passed the datapad to his sister, who tucked it into the bag across her shoulders. The two turned on their heels after and headed for the door, not bothering to check if their teammates followed.

“You took your time,” Kylo mumbled, falling into step beside Rey.

She kept her attention forward, but the corner of her lips quirked. 

“They’re our teammates. You’d have had to talk to them eventually. Besides, thinking on your feet won't kill you.”

“I'll remember you said that when we begin our studies.”

Rey's teasing smile fell fractionally. “About that. When can we start?”

“You’ve seen my schedule. I’m not busy.”

He turned his head a little, caught the slow bob of her throat as she swallowed. Her thrill was a tangible, tingling thing. Perhaps concealment would be a good place to start in their training. Learning to muffle the bright cry of her energy would serve Rey well.

“I promised to help with new recruits this afternoon, but I can request a training room for tomorrow.”

Ren didn’t have to ask who the request would go through. “Dameron won’t object?”

“I told you, he trusts my judgement. He expects us to work something out alone, anyway.”

“He said that?”

“No, but I--” Rey broke off, chewing her lip.

Kylo's brow quirked. Well, that answered his question about who she’d been practicing her telepathy on. He slowed his pace, motioning for Rey to do the same; when Finn and the siblings were a dozen or so paces ahead, he dared to bait her.

“You know,” he whispered, voice smoked, “spying on a commanding officer is a capital offense in most cases.”

“I didn’t spy,” Rey hissed, irritation coloring her cheeks. “He’s just...loud. All of them are.”

Kylo held up a hand, ceding the point. He’d only been teasing.

“Blocking out others is difficult in the beginning. If you’d like, we can start there.” 

“Tomorrow?”

Rey’s voice was bright again, almost bubbling; Kylo couldn’t have refused if he’d wanted.

“Yes,” he said, picking up the pace. The rest of their team was nearly at the training room now, outside of which stood a dour looking Quarren. Chayyim, Ren assumed. “Tomorrow.”

Beside him, Rey matched his pace. “I look forward to it.”

 

 

 

The next few weeks passed quickly.

Between the daily cycles of mission prep and his sessions with Rey, Kylo rarely had a moment to himself. He didn’t mind that. The isolation of open space and early confinement to his room on base were both still fresh, and the thought of being alone for longer than it took to sleep or shower made his teeth ache. Besides, there was freedom in this routine. It was physical work, hard and unwavering, but left him largely without need of a guard. So long as he stayed with his team or didn’t stray from whatever training room Rey snagged, the detail were content to wait in the halls.

Ren hadn’t been so unencumbered since he’d the Order’s flagship. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to move freely.

It also, Kylo realized, had been some time since he’d taken so much pleasure in training. Under Snoke it had been perfunctory, a necessity that lacked both ritual and awe. The former Supreme Leader was stringent, concerned above all else with his own endgame. Apart from time spent alone with his Knights-- time he treasured, because who knew if he’d see any of them again--, there’d been little triumph in learning. No peaks, no luminous, aching delight. There was only a relentless march forward. He either succeeded in what Snoke set for him or he didn’t, and while one was more painful, neither had been deeply satisfying. 

Kylo had convinced himself this was the way of things; after all, he hadn’t cared for his lessons with Skywalker either. He should be grateful for the little blips of enjoyment he found with his Knights. On lengthy missions or in stolen moments, whispering and pushing and bracing one another until the spark of some new ability erupted. The exchanges were warm and fulfilling, but nothing more than games. True work was browbeating at best, and at worst--

“I don’t understand,” Rey said flatly, voice slicing through his thoughts. “What _is_ it?”

Ren looked up from the book in his lap. Rey was perched on hands and knees across from him, peeking over the pages. Looking, but not reading. She didn’t care for that part, Kylo discovered. She read beautifully, soft voice sweetening the stale texts, but she preferred to be dictated to. It gave her time to chew the instructions, or work through forms as Ren described them. She did that last more often than not. Rey was a tactile learner; Kylo had discovered this as well.

As a student, Rey was fierce. She set long hours, brought a datapad to take notes, often doubling back on what she’d written the day before to refresh. She listened attentively as Kylo read, but didn’t hesitate to interrupt when she didn’t understand. If Ren was familiar with whatever technique stumped her, she’d demand a demonstration; if he wasn’t, she took the book and set it aside, made him practice with her until one of them managed results. 

Rey was methodical, dedicated, and precise, and within the confines of their training room time meant nothing. Whether it took minutes or hours was irrelevant so long as she made progress. The former was preferable, of course, but if a technique was tricky she’d spend the rest of their session on it without complaint. She didn’t tire, or give up in frustration. If anything, the challenge spurred her.

“Psychometry,” Kylo repeated. “It’s an intuitive Force ability. It shouldn’t be difficult for you.”

It was less a compliment than a fact. Rey’s raw strength with the Force had always been clear, but after a handful of sessions her natural leanings began to surface. She was instinctual and empathetic, more inclined to second sight and healing abilities than Kylo was. That accounted for her fast-growing telepathy, and how she’d so easily replicated Luke’s calming technique. It also explained her wild, reaching energy. It gave her away now, but with more training would be an asset. She could send out its tendrils at will, use them to addle or calm, weaken or bolster whoever they wrapped around. 

Kylo had never explored this branch of abilities much. He didn’t excel at it, and Snoke was content to foster Ren’s proclivity for battle instead. Still, seeing how quickly Rey warmed to these techniques made him curious, and if he tailored their sessions to fit her-- well, he was just being polite.

“I heard what you called it the first time,” Rey said, a little annoyed. “I meant what does it do.”

“It allows you to read the history of what you touch. Objects are easiest-- clothes, weapons, tools-- but it can also be used on landmarks.” He paused, then in the interest of honestly added: “Corpses as well, but that’s generally discouraged.”

“Why?”

“Death is often traumatic. Opening yourself to--”

“Not that. That’s disgusting. Why would you need to read objects?”

“Insight into the owner, for one. Psychometry allows you to experience exactly what they did at the time the held it; their thoughts and feelings, fears and motivations. It can foster understanding, even sympathy. The account it provides is also unbiased, unlike a person's recount would be. This makes it a valuable tool in determining guilt or innocence in otherwise murky situations.”

Rey was silent a moment, brow knotted in concentration. “And if you’re using landmarks... you could track with it? If it shows the past, you'd see which way someone was going.”

Kylo hadn’t expected that to be her first thought, but their mission was looming. There were only three days left before the teams loaded ship and headed for Crul. Between character exploration and tracking, he supposed the latter was more relevant.

“General Organa does, and so have others. But it can be difficult if you don’t move quickly. The more traffic a place has, the muddier each trail becomes. If you’re more than a week behind who you’re chasing, you risk losing your way.”

“Leia can do it?” 

“She excels at it,” he admitted, watching Rey’s eyes light. It was no secret she admired the General, and Kylo wasn’t above using the fact as motivation. 

“Can you?”

“Not well, but I’m willing to try if you are.”

Rey nodded, settling more comfortably onto the mat. She brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face and motioned to the book.

“Are we using that?”

“No,” Ren said, closing it and setting it carefully aside. “It’s had too many owners. Personal objects are easier.” 

Kylo shifted, digging through his pocket. His fingers found their mark, and he pulled out a splintered hunk of polycarbonate. He held it out between them.

“You first.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

“You tell me.”

Careful of the sharp edges, she took the piece in hand and turned it.

“Polycarbonate,” she mumbled. “Piece of armor, maybe.”

“You know what I mean.” 

He scooted closer, raising his hands to hers. Rey stiffened, but didn’t pull back. She let him cup the back of the hand holding the fragment and guide her other to cover it. Kylo pressed them together gently, mindful of the piece's jagged edge. Her skin was cool, not as rough as his own. He could feel her knuckles moving against his palms, and swallowed dry.

They’d sparred together many times over the last two weeks and sat close in study, but they hadn’t touched. Not like this. They’d brushed legs, blocked blows or shoved, but nothing so deliberate or harmless. 

“Concentrate on its weight,” he instructed. “How it presses in and heats against you, how it feathers around the edges.”

Ren was familiar with the feel of this particular object. He’d spent many idle minutes palming it. He could feel Rey working it now, her trapped hands playing under his own. Her wrist bones rolled against the pad of his thumb, and he drew a quick breath. It felt nice, he thought, but shook it almost immediately. It was an unnecessary observation, and wholly inappropriate.

“Open yourself,” he continued after too long a pause. “Let it speak to you. Close your eyes, if it helps.”

Rey, who up until then had been staring at the back of Kylo’s hands, clenched her eyes shut. A pulse of embarrassment rolled from her, but Ren didn’t have time to wonder what it was in relation to. She centered herself almost immediately, breathing deep and drawing the wayward energy back in. 

They sat like that for several minutes: Rey’s hands around the polycarbonate, Kylo’s around hers. He had meant to pull away, had only taken them to guide her, and that part was done. She was absorbed in the assignment now, face pinched in concentration. There was no need to hold her in place. But her skin was pleasantly cool and she hadn’t asked him to let go, which she surely would’ve if it bothered her. 

Kylo thought of Ahch-To. Rey’s skin slick with rain, shining like glass over the fire as she reached. His mouth had been just as dry then. He’d wanted to touch her, feel the creases of her palm and fingers, and let her feel his. He hadn’t understood the pull then. He still didn’t. Rey wasn’t using her energy to manipulate, or anything else as far as he could tell, but he’d still been aching to touch. It was witchcraft, or something like it. It had to be.

“It was part of your mask,” Rey said finally. “I thought maybe you'd lost it, but you broke it.” Eyes still closed, she let her tongue dart out to swipe her lips. Kylo tracked it and wet his own. “Smashed it, really.”

She shifted, correcting the slouch in her shoulders. She breathed deep and exhaled once, twice, and tightened her grip on the fragment, as though she could wring the memory free. When she spoke again, her voice was tremulous at the edges.

“You were so _angry_ , and miserable. It was like a mirror in your hand. Dark, reflecting everything. You could see yourself in it, and wanted to crush it to dust. You wanted--ah!”

Rey’s hands went slack between his own and she jerked, her eyes opening wide. They were glassy, over wet, and Kylo released her. She opened her hands, revealing a long, crooked cut along her lifeline. _Kriff_. She must have squeezed too tight. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, plucking the fragment from her hand to avoid further injury. “I didn’t think…” He paused, gathering the hem of his tunic. “Let me.”

Rey obeyed, holding her hand out to him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my idea.”

“And it was mine to squeeze, even after seeing how sharp it was.” She splayed her fingers for him. “It was an accident, Ben, and not even a big one.”

Kylo hummed, wiping blood from the wound with the edge of his tunic. The muscle jumped a little with each swipe, but Rey didn’t seem to be in much pain. She was right. When the excess was gone, he could see the cut wasn’t bad. It was long, but shallow. Nothing bacta wouldn’t fix.

“Your empathy makes techniques like this easier for you, but it also makes them more dangerous. You need to be more careful.”

If Rey had gone any deeper into the memory, she might have forgotten herself, made a fist around the polycarbonate and sliced her hand wide. Kylo didn’t know how they would’ve explained that to Dameron.

“I will,” she promised. 

She flexed her hand, and Ren realized it still rested on his knee. He’d pinned it there to clean her wound, and hadn’t let go yet. _Witchcraft_ , he thought again, and drew back. 

“Do you need to stop?”

Rey lifted her hand, examining the wound. “I should probably get some bacta, but it's not urgent.” She looked to Kylo over her fingers. “Can I see you try first?”

He didn’t like the idea of her avoiding the med droid, but he supposed it was only fair. They were fellow students, after all, and the cut wasn’t bad. He nodded his assent, and Rey went digging through her own pockets, fishing for a few moments before tugging free. 

“Hold out your hand.”

He did, and she placed a small wooden slat in the dip of his palm. It was thin, drilled through near the top. A pendant, perhaps. A few lines of lettering were laid into it, but he didn’t recognize the language.

“This might be a hard one,” she teased.

"Why?" He quirked his head. “Are you planning to cheat?”

Rey chuckled. “I only meant the memory’s not as recent as yours. You might have to do some digging. Besides, if I wanted, I could think of better ways to cheat.”

Kylo considered asking what she meant, but thought better of it. She was on the move already, closing the distance between them further. He tensed, but she only took his hand, mirroring his earlier gesture. Hers was too small to cover it so she changed tack, coaxing him to fist the pendant and curling her fingers around his. It was a strange hold, but he didn’t try to shake it. 

“Close your eyes.”

Kylo obeyed, and he felt the rough pads of her fingers work circles against his knuckles. A tactile reward, like you might give a child or a dog. It would’ve been embarrassing if it hadn’t felt good.

“Good,” she mumbled. “Now concentrate, and tell me when you see something.”

Ren breathed deep, filling his chest, and focused on the slow stroke of Rey’s thumb over his hand. Did she realize she was doing it? Probably not. It was a common trick. Repetition inspires trance. Luke would’ve told her that much, at least, and she likely used it on herself so often that it was second nature now. 

He tightened his fist around the pendant, let the edges make bright points in his nerves. There was something just at the edge of his thoughts. An invading warmth, the sound of muffled voices. It wasn’t the guard detail. Ren was familiar enough with their noise by know to know that. Someone in the next training room, perhaps, though that was equally unlikely. The walls were old, but durasteel all the same. Very little would come through.

“I think--”

“Shh,” Rey interrupted. She pressed more insistently at his hand, working long, slow strokes. “Just wait for the whole thing. It’s easier.”

He resisted the urge to scoff. Was she an expert now, having done it once? But her slim, strong fingers broke the thought, worked him back down to the four points burning in his palm. They were equals here, he reminded himself. Both students tripping over their robes, and she was so spirited, so diligent that it made his knuckles ache. Or maybe that was her grip.

Kylo relaxed his shoulders, settling into his pose. The mix of distant voices were back, tugging at fringe of his attention, and so was the heat. Had it been hot where she found the pendant? He couldn’t say for sure yet, but he wanted to, wanted to have something to tell her when he opened his eyes again.

He set his breaths in time with Rey’s lulling rub and let himself open, waiting to be filled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Further proof that Ben Solo had never touched a girl before Rey. 
> 
> Come hang with me on tumblr @cryptid-coalition. We can cry about reylo there if you want.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wraps up the Crul plot, so we're almost over that bridge! Thanks for sticking with me through it. Since this chapter is fairly action-packed, I've got something softer (and exclusively Kylo&Rey) planned for next week. It'll give us all a break before we head into the next leg of the fic.

“Not to kill the mood,” Finn hissed through his vocoder, “but there’s no way this is going to work.”

Kylo huffed, blasting static through his own. “You said that about getting inside.”

“I said it’d be hard to get in. Which it was, by the way. But this--” He gestured with the blaster he’d lifted from a Trooper, sweeping the empty expanse of the Crul base’s atrium-- “is impossible. You want to know why?”

Kylo didn’t, but knew saying so wouldn’t improve Finn’s mood.

The Crul teams had made planetfall hours ago. They left their ships several miles outside base, and spent the morning slogging through the lagoons. It was hateful work, slowed by a patchy but recurring storm and frequent drop-offs in the sandbank. Finding walkable ground again often required swimming several hundred feet, their weapons angled awkwardly above their heads. By the time they made it to the edge of base they were exhausted, soaked, and smeared with silt. That their guns hadn’t also been waterlogged was nothing short of a miracle.

Their luck hadn’t improved from there. The storm kicked up as they approached the training pad, driving most of the Troopers inside. A few remained huddled beneath an overhang, venturing onto the pad to take advantage of a few slackening minutes in the rain, but it was otherwise deserted. The fact nearly sent the squad into a panic. Sneaking through the training door was their only real shot at entry. Trying to take the front or the bridge would give them away immediately, and likely result in slaughter. The base was a veritable arsenal, and if the Troopers inside opened fire before Poe’s teams took the advantage they’d be annihilated. 

Thankfully Dameron kept a level head; he made them fall back into the lagoon and huddle, redrawing the plan. With so few Troopers left to lure, he proposed cutting the infiltration team down to five: himself, his gunner, Rey, Finn, and Kylo. 

_It’ll be tight_ , he’d grimaced, _but there’s no way we’ll snag more uniforms than that this mess_.

The squad was reluctant-- none one liked the idea of gutting what had already been a small team-- but eventually agreed. The storm had strengthened as they argued, and would likely only get worse. If they wanted a chance at getting inside, they’d need to move before the few Troopers left were driven in by the beating rain. Grumbling, those staying behind settled into the lagoon and powered up their commlinks to await instruction, leaving the infiltration team to slink back to the pad. 

If nothing else, the rain bolstered their stealth. No sloshing of boots could be heard over its pound, and the kick-back mist obscured their faces when they peeked over the pad. There were eight Troopers on deck; plenty to cover the team, plus a comfortable amount of slack. Still, Dameron wanted to move quickly, and so did Ren. Hardy as this batch seemed, there was no telling how much longer they’d tolerate the storm. Eager to slip through the closing window, Rey and Kylo splintered off from the group and made quick work of luring Troopers. 

They took it in turns, Kylo relying mostly on mundane means. Water was the element of the planet’s natives, who still weighed heavily on the minds of the base’s inhabitants. None of them had been happy to follow Hux’s extreme orders-- Ren could’ve been Force blind and still sensed that--, and had spent the proceeding weeks anticipating an equally gruesome counter strike. Counting on that anxiety to resurface in the blinding rain, Kylo focused his efforts on the Troopers along the rim. He splashed at the water, snarling and trilling as he’d heard Gilliands do, baiting the nervous outlier. And when they finally leaned over the edge to investigate he’d drag them down, snap their neck, and wade the body back to the group for stripping. 

Rey’s own method was more interesting to watch. Eager to put her recent studies into practice, she honed in on the nearest Trooper, focused on spooling the long arm of her energy around them. It was warm, heavy, enticing even through the rain; not as neat as she’d have liked-- he could feel it despite being several yards from her target, and couldn’t help himself from drawing closer-- but things rarely were outside of the practice ring. It did the job, and well. Her snared Troopers wandered nearer in a daze, weapon held loosely at rest, their feet dragging the closer they came. Ren didn’t blame them. Rey’s energy could be smothering even when she wasn’t bending it to be. If the sight of her crouched and soaking, mouth parted and tongue pressed sharp against her teeth didn’t kick his pulse into gear, Kylo might’ve felt sorry for them.

Once enough uniforms had been gathered, the group made quick work of changing. There was a dispute over weapons-- namely, whether Kylo should have one. It’d be suspicious, he argued, if he was caught without a regulation blaster. But Poe refused, and no one, not even Rey, stepped in on Ren’s behalf.

 _It’s not worth the fight_ , she’d soothed, slipping into her gear. _We’re short on time as it is. Just stick with Finn. He’ll watch you._

Kylo hadn’t liked that idea either. If he had to be weaponless with anyone, he preferred her. She at least was a familiar body; he knew her fighting style, her and strengths and weaknesses. Still, he knew he shouldn't have expected to be paired with Rey. Spreading the Force users out was more advantageous for the group, which was Dameron's highest concern.

And which, of course, had led to this: Ren and Finn stuffed into ill-fitting Trooper gear, making a slow circuit around the base’s atrium as Finn, more glum than Kylo had seen him yet, clutched the single blaster between them.

“Alright,” Kylo whispered eventually. “I'll bite. Why won't this work?”

“We don't know our Trooper numbers, for one. What’re we going to say if we're stopped?”

“The others are taking care of that.”

Which was true enough. Poe, his gunner, and Rey had each taken a hall to patrol. With any luck, they'd be able to stall anyone heading for the atrium long enough for Finn and himself to infiltrate the control room.

“Three people isn't enough for that,” Finn muttered. “You really think they can keep Troopers out of here forever?”

Ren thought it'd be impressive if they managed it for ten minutes.

“They won't need to. This won't take long.”

“So you keep saying.”

“So I mean.” He nudged Finn with his shoulder, guiding the other man to the wall. They were nearing the door to the control room now, and it wouldn't do to approach in sight of the camera. “You weren't so pessimistic this morning.”

“This morning we had double the men for this.” Finn switched his hold on the blaster and followed Ren's lead to the wall, compliant despite his doubts. “You’ve got to admit, this isn't ideal.”

“It isn’t,” Kylo agreed, falling in line behind Finn. He didn’t want to chance being caught in the camera’s peripheral. Two Troopers passing through the atrium wouldn’t raise suspicions, but two loitering around the door might. “All the same, I’d appreciate a little confidence.”

“That’d be easier if you’d told me the plan. You’re not so great with teamwork, are you?”

He wasn’t. Apart from missions with his Knights-- and those weren’t comparable, as they were happy to just follow his lead-- Ren had historically worked alone. Sharing his plan with Finn hadn’t even occurred to him.

His hand shot out, halting Finn by the shoulder as he reached the door. The other man tensed, and Kylo snatched back, unsure of what he’d been thinking. Rey was the closest thing to a companion he had in the Resistance, and even they had only touched a handful of times. Kind though Finn was, he wasn’t a friend, hardly even an acquaintance. Kylo shouldn’t have touched him.

“I’m more accustomed to solo missions,” he said, brushing over the incident. “If I caused undue--”

“It’s fine,” Finn interrupted, voice tight through the vocoder. “Just get started, and fill a guy in next time, alright?”

Kylo nodded, remembering belatedly that Finn wouldn’t see it. Crouching down, he slunk to the other side of the door. When Finn made to follow, Ren held up a hand.

“It’s better that you’re there. When the door opens, you’ll have your gun to their backs.”

If they were at their stations, that was. There was a good chance none of the staff would be actively watching the cameras. If that were the case, Ren would have to hold them off until Finn could get in range. It wouldn’t be difficult-- it was only three men-- but still, Kylo would prefer a few clean shots.

Finn seemed to agree. He raised the blaster, laying it against his chest at the ready. “You still haven’t told me how you’re getting it open.”

“I’ll use the code. Anything else would draw too much attention.”

Finn’s head whipped, and obscured as it was by the helmet Ren could still guess his expression.

“You said you didn’t know any codes.”

“I don’t, but there are ways of deciphering.”

“That could take hours! We don’t have time.”

“Using mundane methods, it might.” Ren brushed his gloved fingers over the keypad mounted in the wall, careful of the buttons. “Fortunately, I have something better in mind.”

Finn looked distrustfully between Kylo’s hand and the flat white of his helmet. “You’re-- going to get it out of one of them?” The other man straightened, discomfort in all his lines. Had Poe told him what it felt like to have his mind picked apart? “Can you even do that through durasteel?”

“I could, but I won’t. Without alerting them to intrusion, the best I could do is skim their thoughts. A waste of time, as passcodes aren’t generally kept at the surface.” Kylo held his hand steady above the keypad now, hovering just above the keys. “But I can do something similar with this. May I have a moment?”

Finn cocked his head, and Ren thought he’d press for details. They’d already been inside for several minutes, however, and the fact was wearing on the other man. The longer they stalled, the greater their chances of exposure. There were few excuses the others could give for redirecting Troopers as they headed toward the atrium, and they were bound to run out of them soon.

“Yea,” Finn said finally, laying his back flat against the wall. “Fine.” He leveled his blaster, tracking it between the halls on the other side of the atrium. “Just make it quick.”

Kylo slowed his breathing, willing himself to focus on the task at hand. The keypad was cold, had no lingering heat signature from recent use. The staff must have been inside for hours. Pity. A few warm buttons would have been a start, at least.

Shaking the thought, Ren gripped the bottom of the pad instead. He closed his eyes, honing in on the feel of it. Not for the first time that day, he wished Rey were his partner. They’d only practiced this technique a few times, but she was far more naturally inclined. The objects Ren tried to read often fought him, retained their stubborn inanimacy for minutes longer in his hand than hers. Still, there was no denying his most recent attempt had gone better than the first; he could only hope the pattern continued.

After a few tense minutes, Ren caught a shadow. Half-formed, a phantom hand with vague, bulbous fingers. It was an untrained, childish vision, but it thrilled him all the same, and he redouble his grip on the keypad to ensure he didn’t lose it. He kept his eyes screwed shut, watching the mass float over the keypad in a haze. The pad and the hand were the only visible thing, the room around it black. Ren was grateful for that. At least there was nothing to distract him from the slow press of one button after another. The numbers on them were illegible, but thankfully the pad was clear enough to ascertain their position.

“I’ve got it,” Kylo said finally, voice pitched up slightly at the success.

“Really?” Finn huffed a small laugh. “I'll be damned. That’s some trick. Give me a second.”

Finn dug through the holster at his hip, pulling out his commlink.

“Finn to infiltration team,” he whispered into it. “We’ve got an in. How soon can you get here?”

A few seconds of dead air, then each of the others chimed in. None of them had gone too far down their assigned halls, and were no more than a minute from the atrium.

“Start walking. We won’t be able to keep the door open long. Once I start shooting, someone’s bound to notice us.”

After waiting for everyone’s sign-off, Finn pocketed his commlink and turned to the door. He gave his blaster a cursory once-over, checking the safety and the pliability of the trigger. 

“Should be easy, right? Back of the head?”

“If we’re lucky. Ready?”

Finn nodded, and Kylo made quick work of the pad. He punched the numbers, counting on the men inside to either not notice or assume it was their relief. 

Whatever the staff thought, it worked in his and Finn’s favor. The two sitting at the control panel didn’t stir as the door opened, and Finn’s shots landed clean. The men fell forward, streaking their monitors with blood. The last, who’d been entering something on a mounted datapad in the corner, gaped and fumbled for his weapon. Kylo dived into the room, going for the man’s knees to knock off the trajectory of his shot. It worked well enough: the blast cut through one of the dozen monitors instead of Finn, and the man lost balance, falling on his back. Ren mounted him before he could recover and snapped his neck with a hard, sure twist.

“In!” he called over his shoulder. “And keep an eye out for the others. If you see Troopers first--”

“I know,” Finn said grimly. “Shut the door.”

Luckily, he didn’t have to. Poe and the others came skidding into the atrium seconds later, helmets off to stave Finn’s shot. Kylo was still moving the bodies at the control panel when they dashed inside, and Poe whistled at the twin entry points in the back of their heads.

“Nice shots.” His eyes wandered to the body in the corner, widening at the bizarre angle of its head. “You too, Ren. Knew you wouldn’t need a blaster.”

Kylo knew the decision had less to do with his abilities than Poe’s distrust, but didn’t say so. He made quick work of piling the bodies, and barked for Finn to reseal the room. The door closed just as the thud of several dozen boots came echoing down one hall.

“They’ll have to call staff to get inside,” Kylo assured, reaching for the release on his helmet. He pressed the buttons by his jaw and the locks disengaged. He pulled it free and tossed the stifling thing aside. Wiping away the hair clinging to his face, he took a deep, free breath. “Troopers don’t have access to this room. Besides, no one saw us come in. We have a few minutes before they figure it out.”

“Let’s not waste 'em.” Poe pulled out his commlink and leaned over the monitors, scanning the grainy feeds for movement outside. “This is Commander Dameron. Does anyone read?”

The line crackled almost immediately.

“Yes, Commander,” a woman answered. “Are we good to move?”

“Yes. Split the team, though. Half to the front, half to the bridge. It’s going to be a party by the time you get here. Flanking is the best shot we’ve got.”

“Copy that. I’ll let you know when we’re in position.”

The woman signed off, and Poe laid his commlink on the control panel. No one spoke for several minutes. Finn fussed with his helmet, finally tugging it off and tossing it aside. He pawed at his sweaty face, looking as overheated as Ren felt. Rey focused on Poe’s gunner, who out of all of them seemed to be the only one who’d had trouble in the hall. A wide bruise was blooming over the man’s cheek and bridge of his nose, suggesting he’d gotten into a fight after removing his helmet. 

Outside the room, tensions were mounting. Even through the door they could hear it. Several dozen Troopers were pacing and shouting, calling through their comms for an officer. Something had happened; none of them knew what yet, but they’d heard it, and it was setting their teeth on edge.

“Ren.”

Kylo snapped to attention, finding Poe still leaning against the control panel. The man had called him, but was focused on a spare blaster in his hand. It must have fallen from a holster when Ren moved its owner’s body.

“Can you shoot?” Poe asked. He pushed off the panel and walked to Kylo’s side, still looking at the weapon. He turned it a few times, assessing for damage.

“I’m more comfortable with a saber.”

“But you know how?”

“Well enough.”

Poe considered the blaster for several long seconds, then flipped it, presenting the handle to Kylo.

“It’s going to be a mess out there,” the other man said when Ren only stared. “Force user or not, you won’t make it through 40 men without a weapon.”

Kylo agreed. Still, he didn’t reach for the blaster yet. “Change of heart, Commander?”

Dameron rolled his eyes, pressing the grip further into Kylo’s space. “You did what you promised. I don’t have to like you to admit that. Just take it before I change my mind.”

Hesitating only a second longer, Ren took the gun in hand. Poe released the barrel, side stepping as though not trusting Kylo not to squeeze the trigger; which, Kylo thought, he probably didn’t. He nodded in thanks and turned the barrel down, and after a few seconds Dameron returned his attention to the monitors.

Their squad came on screen soon after. A pack gathered around the front blast door, and around back another scrambled onto the bridge. When they were in place, Poe’s commlink buzzed against the panel.

“We’re ready when you are, Commander.”

“Excellent,” Poe called back. “We’re picking up a lot of noise so--”

A series of frantic beeps interrupted him, followed by the grind of the sliding door. Dameron blanched and spun to face the intruder, the others following suit.

A young officer, clean and trim and cussing at the Troopers clumped in the door came into view. He frowned as his eyes fell on their uniforms, temporarily distracted. 

“How the hell did you--” he broke off, eyes landing on Kylo’s face. The officer’s brow furrowed as he struggled to place it, his jaw going slack when he finally did. He took a half-step back, shook his head as though clearing his vision. “Supreme Leader?”

The officer peaked over his shoulder, looking for some sign of understanding in his Troopers. They all stood as stiff as he, grip tight around their weapons. Ren’s team wasn’t much better. None of them had moved since the door opened; not even Poe, who’s commlink was live with several voices, all tripping over one another, demanding to know what was happening. If the officer noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it. His attention was fixed on Kylo’s sweating face.

“I don’t understand,” the man mumbled. “We were told-- Armitage said…”

The officer broke off, looking around the room more critically now. He scanned the faces of the others, eyes lighting in recognition on Dameron's, then the blood on the monitors, the piled bodies on the floor. His mouth twisted, ugly and understanding.

“You,” he spat, looking to Ren again. “Of all people, _you_?”

The officer’s hand flew to his hip, but Rey was faster. She shot into the crowd, aiming at no one in particular to scatter it. Several Troopers dived to the side and the officer stumbled back, falling against his men. Poe took advantage of the confusion and slammed his fist against the main doors’ releases, bellowing into his comm for the teams to come through.

The Troopers spun at the sound, all of them splitting to take aim at one of the doors as Dameron’s men slipped through. The Officer, still stunned, looked dumbly from one side to the other. It gave the group inside time to squeeze by. They sprinted from the control room, shoving through a cluster of Troopers. Only when Ren tried to follow did the man’s spell break.

“Traitor!” the man screamed, forgetting his blaster entirely and reaching for Ren’s hair.

His fisted a few hunks of it and managed to pull Kylo back, but his luck ended there. Slimmer and shorter than Ren, he was easy enough to buck. Kylo reached back, squeezed hard at the delicate bones of the officer’s wrist until the man yowled and let go. He stumbled back, cradling his wrist, and Ren spun to point the blaster.

“Traitor,” the officer repeated, low and spiteful.

Kylo hesitated-- he’d called Hux by his first name; did the two know each other? Were they close? How often had Ren met this officer at the General’s dull functions without realizing?-- but only a moment. Not wanting to give him time to recover, Kylo adjusted his aim and pulled. 

The shot smacked him neatly in the throat, and he sputtered a moment before dropping to his knees. Satisfied that the man wouldn’t last, Ren turned again to the atrium and headed into fray, eager to put this fight behind him.

 

 

Despite its rocky start, the mission went largely without a hitch. 

Once the rest of the team was inside, it took no more than an hour to clear out the Troopers and staff. Maintaining stealth had tipped the scales in their favor. Not anticipating an attack, the base’s residents had only their regulation blasters at their hips, and Dameron’s decision to split the team blocked the Trooper’s way to the arsenal. Evenly matched in numbers and munitions, it was little trouble to overthrow the Order’s hold on Crul-- at least for the moment. The Resistance couldn’t hope to hold the base. Small though it was, it was still a hub of weapons development, and the Order would notice sooner rather than later that it had been compromised.

Still, it was a much needed victory, and allowed them to restock their supplies. Poe sent the pilots back into the lagoons for the ships, and the rest stayed behind to raid the arsenal. They made piles of weapons-- modified blasters and pistols, flame projectors, launchers, and several types of grenades and mines-- and rolled out fuel drums, some to top off the ships with and others to drag back for storage. Some ventured into the barracks and found duffel bags to stuff full of preserved meats, dehydrated produce, and great silver tins of caf ground from the mess hall.

The only ones exempt from work were those who sustained injury. They’d been set aside, their wounds assessed and tended by the field medic. Poe’s gunner was there, gritting his teeth as a few of his fingers were reset, and some sharpshooters were being treated for blaster shots. 

Ren himself was among them, huddled against the wall and working to keep his breathing even. Throughout the fight he’d taken a blaster shot to the hip, a stab between the ribs, and had his shoulder dislocated. They weren’t the worst injuries he’d ever sustained, but painful all the same, and he was grateful for the rest as he awaited his turn with the medic. 

“You’re lucky,” she said, noticing the bloom of blood along his side. “Injuries there tend to puncture the lungs.”

Ren grunted as she helped him peel away what was left of the Trooper uniform. Once down to his underclothes, she lifted his shirt to examine the puncture more closely.

“Very lucky,” she amended, prodding the tender edges. “I’ve got enough bacta and bandages for this and your blaster shot, but you’ll want to get stitches back on base.”

“It’s not that deep.”

“Wide, though.” The medic squeezed a full pack of bacta onto the wound before wrapping it, and Ren cussed. “It won't heal properly without at least a few.”

“Noted,” Kylo hissed. “Can you reset my shoulder?”

“I can.” She worked the extra bacta down to the blaster wound, coating it before taping a large square of gauze in place. “It’ll hurt like hell, though.”

“I’m aware,” he assured. “Not my first.”

She nodded, drying her hands on her pants. She motioned for him to scoot forward then knelt behind him, taking his forearm in hand.

“Let’s get it over with, then. Try not to resist.”

Firmly, and with no care for the noise it ripped from him, she lifted and bent his arm, pulling it back to pop in place. It went in with a thick crack, and Kylo’s vision flared white. His teeth dug hard enough into his lip to draw blood, and the medic rubbed at his other arm.

“Easy,” she soothed. She waited for his breathing to even out before sliding out from behind him. “You’ll be sore for awhile, but you should have full mobility back by the end of the week. Don’t overextend in the meantime. You’ll make it worse.”

Kylo nodded, not trusting his voice. After helping him prop against the wall, she moved on, leaving him to watch the bustle of the teams.

He must have fallen asleep, because sometime later the sound of Rey’s voice jerked him awake. 

The blast doors were still open, but the piles of weapons and supplies had been cleared, and what Ren could see of the sky was speckled with stars. He snapped to attention, both from Rey’s greeting and the shock of having drifted off, but the motion tugged the wound on his hip. He winced, remembering his injury, and fell back with a pant. Rey frowned. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked, crouching in front of him. Her face sweaty and smeared with metal grease, but otherwise she looked fine. No injuries that Kylo could see. “Keeko says you took a beating.”

Kylo laughed humorlessly. “I’ve had worse.” He braced his good arm on the floor, pushing himself up straight. “But I won’t be of use for at least a week.”

Rey’s head cocked. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to his right side, which bore the brunt of his injuries. “I’ll need to recover, unless you like your partners maimed. Though I suppose I could read to you still if you can’t wait.”

Rey’s expression hardened in irritation. “That isn’t why I asked.”

“Isn’t it?” 

Ren couldn’t imagine why else the injuries would concern her. They weren’t life threatening.

“I was just--” she broke off, reconsidered. She schooled her frustration, but Kylo could still feel the thin pulse of it reaching out. Frustration and something else, something softer. Concern, perhaps. “I’m glad it wasn’t worse. That’s all.”

Kylo didn’t know what to do with that, a fact Rey seemed painfully aware of. She chewed her lip, looking embarrassed, then stood.

“We need to get going,” she said, coming to his uninjured side. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we have to move.” She crouched again, working her shoulder under his. “Can you stand?”

He grunted and she maneuvered under him more firmly, working him to his feet. He tucked his legs under, testing his weight against the fresh wound at his hip. Unsteady, but manageable.

“Is the ship close?”

“Just out the door.” 

She took a few careful steps, easing him forward. He shuffled along with her, breath hitching at each tug in his hip and side. He shouldn’t have slept, not so bent. It had irritated and stiffened his injuries, and even if Rey hadn’t offered help he would have asked her to; he wouldn’t have been able to walk so far alone.

“Thank you,” he grunted as they neared the ship.

Rey looked up from under his arm, panting from bearing his weight. “What for?”

Kylo could think of several things, though not making him beg for help getting back to the ship loomed largest.

“Your concern.”

Rey averted her eyes, hoisted him a little higher onto her shoulders. Pressed close as they were, he could feel the spike of heat in her neck.

“We’re partners,” she said, as if that explained it. And maybe it did. Rey’s fierce loyalty was quick to cultivate. “Would you do it for me?”

Ren nodded.

“No need to thank me, then. Just get me back later.”

Kylo imagined their roles were reversed: Rey limping-- or worse, limp in his arms-- being dragged like a doll from some backwater planet. A small flare of nausea that he couldn’t totally offload blame on his injuries for worked through his gut.

“Hopefully I won’t need to.”

Rey huffed, but said nothing. 

Careful of the stab wound, she worked an arm around his waist for better balance and kept moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next week self-indulgent romance advancement.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I did what Dameron asked,” he said slowly.
> 
> “A prisoner would do that under the right pressure. It doesn’t make them morally aligned. Are you?”
> 
> “A prisoner?”
> 
> “Aligned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we're basically at the halfway point, I thought it'd be nice to focus on Rey and Ben's developing feelings. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and hope y'all like reading it just as much!

Healing took longer than Kylo expected.

The blaster wound at his hip was wide, irritating the edges of older injuries clustered there. It tugged at the surrounding scar tissue as it closed, deepening the ache, and his shoulder wasn’t much better. Though most of the pain faded after the first day, the deep cold of Belsavis kept the joint stiff and unworkable. Lifting the arm more than a few inches required several long minutes of stretching, and even then it caught and throbbed. Between that and the stab in his ribs, which threatened to reopen every time he dressed, he couldn’t do much more than limp through base for most of the next two weeks. 

Thankfully, he had few places to be. With the Crul mission complete, Ren’s days were once again free. Without daily training sessions there were few demands on his time, which was fortunate, because at Rey's request Kylo was mostly confined to his room. Assured he would heal better there-- without a medbay to lock him in, she was probably right--, Rey insisted he spend as much time in it as possible. He could drag himself to the mess hall or track down the med droid, but venturing any further was forbidden. She did _once_ let him visit Leia's rooms, but that was only out of surprise at the request. After that, she instructed his guard to limit his outings.

For her own part, Captain Leena took the order seriously. She kept men at his door two at a time, refreshing them every few hours, and updated Rey on Ren’s movements throughout the day. The confinement was an unwelcome callback to his early days on base, but Ren didn’t have the heart to be angry. Whatever Rey’s motivation-- and he was having difficulty parsing it--, it didn’t appear to be malicious. His injuries had worried her, and she wouldn’t lengthen his leash again until he was healed. For that reason, he knew it was best not to resist. It would only exacerbate his wounds and frustrate the woman more.

Besides, Rey spent so much time in the room with him that it was difficult to feel truly alone.

Whenever she could be spared, the woman slunk in, bringing books and food and news of what had passed since her last visit. She updated him on weapons testing, recruitment successes and failures, and the scraps of information on the Order that floated this far out. As Kylo predicted, their raid on the Crul base was quickly discovered. After many attempts to contact those stationed there, a small detail was sent to investigate. Finding the doors open and no small measure of carnage, they searched the lagoons for the perpetrators, who by then had been gone for several days.

“Poe made sure to sign our work, though,” Rey said between bites of dried meat. “Left a note addressed to General Hux. He didn’t want him thinking the Crolutes had done it.”

Thoughtful. Given Hux’s reaction to the Crolute’s initial raids, Kylo could only imagine how the General would retaliate for this slaughter.

“If word has already come this far,” Kylo mused, “it’s because Hux wanted it to.” He picked at his own jerky, nibbling the edges. “He’s likely placed a bounty on Dameron’s head, and anyone else’s caught associating with the Resistance.”

Rey shrugged. “That’s no different than before.”

“It is, actually.” He imagined how Armitage’s face would’ve twisted as read over Poe's undoubtedly crass note. Crul had been Hux's idea originally; he wouldn't take the destruction lightly. “The Resistance wasn’t considered much of a threat after Crait. Something to be snuffed out, certainly, but--” 

Kylo paused, remembering the General’s fury at losing the chance to annihilate the Resistance’s pitiful remnants. Hux had been controlled as ever, but Ren felt anger in his every line as the other man paced the deserted outpost. It had quickly abated, however, as the General threw himself into promoting Kylo’s supremacy. Their history was complicated-- often violent, though occasionally decidedly not--, but for the sake of continuity Armitage had sidestepped it and dragged them both forward. 

There’d been little time in the beginning to worry about the Resistance, at least for Ren. He doubted Hux had ever stopped plotting its downfall totally, but his pursuit of that had lapsed. Despite their failure to crush it, after all, the Order’s attacks had been a success. What hobbled off Crait that day was nearly nothing; if they had to wait a few more weeks, even months to crush it, what did it matter? The opposition was breathing out its death rattle, and the Order’s strength was only growing in the intervening time.

Except, of course, so was the Resistance's. Limping though it was, it wasn't defeated. Tenacious as ever, the group had resolved to pick up steam wherever it could. Had Hux considered the possibility? Likely not, and the raid on Crul shined a hard light on his oversight. If Kylo knew Armitage-- and in spite of themselves, they both knew each other well--, the fact that the Resistance had gained enough footing to mount an attack would rekindle his fire. If he'd doggedly pursued the Resistance's destruction before, it would pale to his efforts going forward.

“Until now,” Kylo continued, “you’ve had the luxury of flying under Hux’s radar. Dameron’s decision to take credit, while noble, has blown your cover.”

“That was the idea, wasn’t it? You said it yourself: we weren’t going to get support with only Crait at our backs. We needed a victory.”

“And now you need to be careful. If Hux is letting news of the Crul attack circulate, it’s to make sure his allies are on the lookout.”

Rey cocked a brow. “I’m not an idiot. I don’t go recruiting with the Resistance emblem painted on my face.”

“I didn’t say you were.” He dropped the hunk of jerky in his hand, giving up the pretense of eating. “There are easily three Order spies for every potential recruit now. If you aren’t cautious, you'll destroy what we’ve been building to.”

“We?”

“The Resistance,” he clarified.

“I know what you meant. I just haven’t heard you count yourself as part of it until now.”

Kylo hesitated, and Rey’s eyes narrowed at the corners, tracking between his own. The scrutiny made his skin draw tight. He felt caught, though doing what he couldn’t guess. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? The reason she’d called to him across the yawning void of space?

“I did what Dameron asked,” he said slowly.

“A prisoner would do that under the right pressure. It doesn’t make them morally aligned. Are you?”

“A prisoner?”

“Aligned.”

Ren fingers tightened around the sheets. Rey’s eyes were calculating, mouth parted a little in anticipation. He didn’t know what she expected him to say, couldn’t even read what she hoped for in her spiraling energy. She’d spent her time as he recovered practicing control, learned to draw her energy in tight. It didn’t bleed from her as freely now, and without it Kylo felt blind. 

It wouldn’t do to lie. Rey would sense it immediately. She could slip into his thoughts with little effort or indication, tease out their tucked ends. Any answer he gave would be picked apart before he'd finished speaking, and he didn't like the idea of damning himself now. Not after having kept above water this long.

He swiped his tongue over the back of his teeth. He didn’t care about Dameron or most others in the Resistance. If he’d known landing on Belsavis months ago meant having to aid them, he likely would’ve tried his luck elsewhere. To say he was aligned with them wouldn't be accurate. Rey, however, was a different matter. 

In the span of a few months, she'd done all she could to make him comfortable. That hadn’t immediately been clear, but having come to know her, it was obvious now. She’d organized his initial landing, securing his board and safety; helped him heal, tended and fed him, shared and learned and confided in him. In their studies, she at once challenged and encouraged him, something neither Skywalker or Snoke had ever done. 

Rey was a companion beyond his hopes: a match in both strength and vision. It had been years since Kylo felt equal to anyone, or interacted with another outside the narrow parameters of fear. But he didn’t fear Rey, didn’t flinch from her or find himself anticipating an attack, and she didn’t seem to fear him either. She sat close, met his eyes, let him touch her cool, curious hands.

“I’m aligned with you.”

The confession hung between them, viscous and incriminating. Kylo felt exposed, a fact that didn't seem to concern Rey. She let it stretch between them, raking her eyes over him slowly: his winding fingers, the tendons in his neck, his clenching jaw. It was an exercise in patience not to demand some sort of acknowledgement, but he endured it. Rey was thoughtful, preferred to observe, and this was part of it. She was reading his sincerity, body and mind, waiting to see if he'd double back. 

When he didn't, she accepted his words with a nod. Whether it was the exact answer she wanted was unclear, but it seemed enough for now. She let her eyes come to rest on his chin, frowning at the dark stubble there.

“You haven’t shaved,” she said finally.

The shift was jarring, mentally knocking him flat. Had they discussed that today? Not that he recalled, and he couldn’t see how Rey's mind made the jump. He rubbed at his jaw, ruffling the short, coarse hair. He hated that it’d grown out, but his dominant arm was still too stiff for delicate work, and he didn’t like the idea of holding a blade with the other.

“I don’t have the dexterity at the moment.”

“You look ridiculous.” Without giving him a chance to respond, Rey hopped from her seat on the bed. “Come on.”

He watched her grab the chair at his desk and drag it into the 'fresher. Setting it in front of the mirror, she stopped the sink and drew water, letting the basin fill as she fished through a drawer. A thin haze of steam rose from the basin, fogging the bottom edges of the mirror.

“Come on,” she repeated, insistent over the running water.

“What for?” Ren asked, but he was already pushing himself up. 

He flexed his hip, tested his weight, then limped toward the 'fresher. Rey didn't answer, instead busied herself with pulling things from the drawer. They came into view over her shoulder as he approached, laid out neatly on the lip of the sink: a small towel, a pack of lather, and--

“I told you,” he said, eyes lighting on the long blade of the razor. She pulled that out last, setting it carefully on the towel. “Even if I start, I won't be able to finish.”

“You won't have to do anything,” she assured, stepping aside and clearing his path to the chair. “Sit.”

He looked warily between her and the blade, but eventually complied. He lowered himself into the chair, and she waited for him to settle before grabbing the pack of lather.

“You could’ve said you needed help,” she chided, rolling the pack in her palms to warm it.

He tracked he twist of foil, letting her words sink in. When they did, he felt the floor fall out from under him. _Oh_. 

“I don’t,” he said quickly. “It isn’t--” She’d already slipped between him and the sink, complicating his plans for extraction. “It’s not necessary.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, it is.” She tore the pack open and squeezed the contents out. “Don’t you trust me?”

He licked his lips, watching her work the liquid to a silky foam. He could smell the bright antiseptic of it, and wondered idly if it stung her palms.

“That’s not the point.”

“What then?” Her lips quirked in a small smile. “The razor? I’ve used one before, you know.”

Good to know, though not really what concerned him. He didn’t doubt her skill, or that she’d be careful. If anything, he was certain she would be. Kylo knew he’d be in no real danger, but still-- the thought of her pressed close and focused made his gut clench.

Shaving had always been a utilitarian experience: a quick brush of lather, a few sure swipes of a razor. It was perfunctory, almost a chore, something he could do in the dark by now. It required little ritual or thought to his body. For Rey, however, the contours of his face and neck were uncharted territory; her own work there would be slower, more attentive. Already she’d introduced more care to the routine than he would have. She’d drawn warm water, laid out a fresh towel, heated the lather with her skin. She hadn’t even bothered looking for a brush, and would have to apply it her fingers now. And wasn't that a thought? He imaged the roll of her thumbs against his throat, gentle and horribly intimate, and swallowed hard. 

His apprehension must have shown, because Rey sighed and leaned against the sink.

“This isn't a trick, Ben,” she muttered, an old sadness darkening her face. Something only tangential to this moment, the familiar clash of loneliness and mistrust. Kylo knew something about that. “I won't cut your throat, or somehow use this as ammunition later. I--” 

She bit the words off, and a helpless heaviness settled in Kylo's hands and feet. He’d waited too long, couldn’t leave now without offending her. And even if he tried, it would be easy to block. If she pushed off the sink, rested her knee on the seat between his legs, he'd be pinned.

“You're my friend,” she said finally, her voice soft and confessional. “Just let me help you. Please.”

_Friend_. How long had it been? He couldn't remember, but it set a curl of warmth in motion. Wetting his lips again, Kylo gave a nod.

“Ok.” He cleared his throat, then a little more surely: “Alright.”

Rey smiled and worked the lather in her hands again. The deflated foam reactivated and the sharp scent stirred; Kylo breathed it deep, hoping the sting of it would cut the fog building in his mind. He felt weak, off-kilter, and Rey hadn’t even touched him yet. Humiliating.

“Look up.”

Kylo obeyed, baring his throat. Rey moved in, parting his legs with her knee and balancing on the edge of the seat. He tensed when her slick fingers made contact-- despite her efforts, the foam was still cold--, but urged himself to relax. She moved slowly, working the lather over his neck, under his jaw, across his cheeks and chin. She spread the thick mess evenly, lingering now and then on features that caught her attention. Rey thumbed the hard corners of his jaw, made a few passes over the valley of the scar she’d given him, let her fingers rest on his pulse. To Ren’s horror it fluttered to life, but if the woman noticed she kindly said nothing. 

“You look like him here,” she muttered, more to herself than Kylo. She ran a finger down the line of his jaw, smearing cream. “Leia too, though mostly--” her eyes flicked up to his nose and the apples of his cheeks.

It was an odd time to bring up his parents, though he supposed she hadn’t had many opportunities to study him so thoroughly. Kylo didn’t disagree, but also didn’t care for the reminder. He’d always thought he inherited the least compatible their traits, making his face a war of features; decent at a distance, perhaps, but too busy up close, difficult to look at for long.

“That’s not true,” Rey chuckled, pulling back to clean her hands. She dunked them in the sink, then wiped them dry on the towel. “It suits you.”

It took Ren a moment to realize what she was responding to. “That’s being generous.”

“If you say so.” 

She grabbed the razor, opening it to expose the long blade. Kylo’s grip on the arms of the chair tightened as he watched her dip it in the basin and shake off the excess. She draped the towel over his uninjured shoulder, then balanced her knee on the chair again. Rey wasn’t as careful with her placement this time, and her knee came to rest against his thigh. Kylo tensed, but couldn’t shift away; his legs were already spread as wide as they’d go.

Laying the flat of the razor under his chin, Rey tilted his head up again. Kylo didn’t resist, but he hissed at the press of the blade. The line of his throat felt more exposed now than it had under her fingers, and when she laid the cutting edge of it against his adam’s apple he felt his pulse kick into gear.

“Relax,” Rey soothed, dragging the blade up slowly. “I’ve done this before, remember?”

Kylo resisted asking to who, focusing instead on the glide of the razor over his skin. 

She took her time. If Ren were braver he might’ve teased, accused her of enjoying the act; as it stood, brave was the last thing he felt. He suppressed shivers as the blade swiped over his throat, lingering a touch too long on his pulse points. The first had likely been an accident, Rey uncertain if she should continue the line up his cheek or finish his neck first. But he hadn’t missed the way her eyes narrowed when his breath hitched, how she pressed the biting edge in fractionally harder to judge his reaction. 

When she reached the other side, she dragged the blade up to the corner of his jaw at a glacial pace, eyes fixed on Ren’s slightly parted mouth. Pausing over the fluttering-- no, _hammering_ pulse, Rey feigned adjusting her grip. The shift dug the edge in, stinging the tender skin, and he whimpered, a low, treacherous heat sparking in his gut.

Rey pulled the blade back immediately. “Are you afraid?”

Kylo tore his eyes from the ceiling to look at her. She loomed closer than necessary, her dark eyes wide and curious. The question was only a nicety, meant to tease out something she’d already guessed. She _had_ done it on purpose, then. The confirmation left Ren feeling both foolish and helpless, but there was no point in lying. Not if she'd already assumed. Not trusting his voice, he shook his head. 

"Something else, then?"

He grunted his assent, and her tongue peeked out to wet her lips, a heady spiral of her energy settling around his shoulders. Had she meant to do that? Probably not. She looked as off-balance as Kylo felt. 

“I think I knew that, actually.” 

She reached back and flicked the razor through the water, sloshing it clean. When she was satisfied she brought it back around, dabbing the excess on the towel at Ren’s shoulder. She cupped the back of his head with her free hand, working it deep in his hair. It was a secure hold, her thin fingers tangling near his roots. She used it to guide him, angling for better access to his face. Kylo tested the grip, tilting further than she intended. She tightened her hold, blunted nails catching on his scalp, and corrected him with a firm tug. 

Her cheeks darkened at the small gasp he issued, but she didn’t slacken her hold. If anything she redoubled, working a few more locks between her fingers and pulling tight. Ren’s eyes fell shut a moment and breathed out slowly through his nose, willing the heat in his gut to bank. She was toying with him, had to be, but Kylo found he didn’t mind. Her energy was pacing the room again, begging to be read, and he couldn’t sense any maliciousness. If this was a game, it wasn't a cruel one. And perhaps it wasn't at all. She considered him a friend, after all, had said so herself; weren’t friends allowed to touch? 

Clearing her throat, Rey held Ren in place and worked short, sure strokes over his cheek. Shaving was less of a danger here, and she worked more quickly, clearing away the stubble in barely a minute. After cleaning the blade, she adjusted her hold and repeated the process on the other side of his face. She slowed when she reached his lip, taking care not to catch the tender skin as she went. When she was done, she rinsed the blade a final time and set it aside.

“There,” she mumbled, reluctantly releasing Kylo’s hair. “Feel better?”

He waited for her to wipe the excess foam away with the towel before feeling his face. When he did, the skin was warm and wonderfully. He gave a pleased hum. 

“Yes,” he said, fingering the line of his jaw. “Thank you.”

Rey shrugged, reaching back to unstop the sink. She dried her hands on her pants and chewed thoughtfully at her lip.

“Can I say something?” She waited for Ren to nod before continuing. “I know this hasn’t been easy, wasn't in the beginning especially. What you did...it took a lot of courage.”

“I ran away, if you recall.”

“You didn’t run. You defected. You might not have planned to,” she added when he made to interrupt. “But helping take that base, fighting beside us-- you can’t pretend anymore that isn’t what you’ve done.”

Rey paused, fussing with the knee of her pants. It had caught on something sharp, torn at the bend. She tugged the loose fibers there, winding them around her fingers.

“I don’t expect you to like everyone,” she continued, “or always agree. But I want you to know that I appreciate you trusting me enough to try.” Rey clucked her tongue. "Enough to come here at all, actually. I know we didn't--" 

She broke off, her eyes momentarily glassing. Kylo could imagine what she was seeing: a throne room, a rejection, a fight they couldn't seem to stop having. Not before, at least. Their time together on Belsavis had been peaceful so far, a trend Ren desperately hoped continued. 

"It probably would've been easier to keep flying than to trust me," she said finally. "It means a lot that you didn't. I’m, ah... I'm glad you’re here.”

Kylo gripped the arms of the chair, thankful for something solid. Rey was looking down at him, her expression at once raw and unreadable, and he felt again as though the floor had dropped out of the room.

“So am I.”

A pause, then Rey huffed a short laugh. It was more air than sound, as if it had been punched out of her. Leaning forward swiftly, she braced her hands on the back of the chair and pressed a kiss to his hair. Kylo stiffened at the contact, and the tension shot straight into the woman above him. She pulled back sharply, blanching when she met his gaze.

“I'm sorry," she muttered. She backed against the sink, raising a hand to brush her lips. “That wasn't-- I shouldn't have--”

“No,” Kylo interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s alright. I... didn't mind.”

He hadn't expected it, but it hadn't been unpleasant either. Her mouth was as cool as the rest of her, and soft even through his hair. Pressed close as she'd been, Kylo had almost been able to make out the scent of her.

Rey’s eyes narrowed, and he felt her probes at the edge of his mind. He made sure to keep open, let her dip in uninhibited until she found what she wanted. After several long moments she was satisfied, and the hard line of her shoulders slumped.

“Good,” she said weakly. “Great. That’s good.” 

Silence fell between them then. Rey went back to widening the tear at her knee, and Kylo, unsure of what to say, watched. Thankfully, the woman’s comm crackled to life soon after, sparing them both. She pulled it free with a grateful sigh, calling back. Something-- Kylo couldn’t tell what, as many Resistance members still spoke in code out of habit-- had gone wrong on at the docks. Not serious, but pressing enough to warrant back up. Rey promised to be there in a few minutes, then signed off, pocketing her comm again.

“Always something,” she said.

Kylo hummed. He still hadn’t gotten up from the chair, sure that doing so would break whatever spell had fallen. Rey pushed off the sink, closing the distance between them again. She tugged at the ends of her shirt, working out the creases.

“I’ll check back later, alright?” 

Ren nodded, and Rey, steeling herself after a moment's hard consideration, dove down again to peck his hair. Kylo’s breath hitched at the contact, but it didn’t linger. The woman pulled just as quickly, slipping from the room without another word. He watched her back disappear through the mirror, heard her mumble something to the guards at the main door, then jog off down the hall.

When her steps had finally receded, Kylo slouched in his chair. He let out a long, drawn sigh, and rubbed the clean line of his jaw, waiting for the air to flood back to the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are hopeless and highly inexperienced. Send help.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belsavis interlude: in which time passes, relationships develop, and new plans fall into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at the start of a new story arc now! Hope y'all enjoy this one as it develops. As always, let me know what you think. I love getting y'alls feedback.

Once Kylo had fully healed, the next few months passed quickly. 

At his suggestion, Rey spoke with the officers about lying low, and miraculously they agreed. Their point had been made, they said, and they needed now to bring new recruits up to speed. And recruits, it was worth noting, were pouring in. When Rey, Finn, and Kylo-- who Poe had reluctantly cleared for scouting missions-- flew out to drum up support, they came back each time with a full ship. 

_I can't believe it_ , Rey whispered once, low and bubbling at Kylo's ear. _Finn and I were here two months ago, and we only convinced five_.

They'd been on Taris then, a smoggy, ruined world. Strapped with rebreathers, the three of them wandered to the edges of a shantytown, taken seats at a bar Finn and Rey swore was sympathetic. Or at the very least, bore no love for the Order. 

Kylo could see why. Through the wide, broken window at his side-- were they waiting for drinks in the wreckage of a ship? They must’ve been. Nothing else had windows like that-- Ren could see an armored wall on the horizon. Above it, glittering through the thick yellow smog, were the spindling tops of skyscrapers. All the city's wealth and First Order connections were there: breathing filtered air and drinking clean water, protected by long, precise guns. Anything the Order might've bribed Taris’ elite with hadn't made it beyond the wall, and likely never would. The people on this side would live and die in the shells of fallen bombers regardless of what faction took the city; why should they care about it?

The man who brought their drinks, a Kubaz in a tattered cloak and ancient rebreather, recognized Rey when she pulled back her hood. Her informant, Kylo assumed.

“Heard something funny the other night,” he wheezed.

“Did you?”

“Attack on an Order arsenal. Big mess, big embarrassment. Lots of dead Troopers and missing equipment.” The man slid them each their drinks. “Know anything about that?”

Rey shrugged, but the corners of her eyes creased with humor. The Kubaz hummed and tapped one long, dirty nail on the table.

“All anyone's been talking about, especially the kids. See them?” He jerked his head to a table in the far corner where six boys were huddled. “They’re all riled up. And,” he leaned in, conspiratorial, “they’re popular. Lots of friends, if you follow.”

Rey nodded, thanked the Kubaz with a sizable bag of credits. He stuffed it into his robes and shuffled back to the bar, and Rey, telling Finn and Kylo to mind the table, went to parley. 

She wasn't gone long. Most of the young men seemed to recognize her from a previous visit; Finn as well, who they turned to wave at over the crowd. When they did, Kylo was horrified to see none of them wore rebreathers. Too poor, perhaps, or unlucky enough to have had them stolen. How many more years could they live without them? Not a lot, surely, and it was likely they were already in the process of dying. Taris had been toxic for centuries.

After a few minutes of hushed conversation, Rey returned to the table and the boys headed for the door. They would come, she said, but needed an hour or so to gather their friends. The three of them waited, politely stirring drinks they had no intention of imbibing-- who knew what was breeding in the liquid--, until one of the boys poked his head back through the door and called them.

When they went out to meet the new recruits, both Rey and Finn were momentarily stunned. Whatever they'd expected, the boys had outdone it by easily half. Gathered around the door were some thirty men and women: younger than Kylo, maybe even younger than Rey, dirty faced but bright in the eyes. None of them wore rebreathers either. 

Maybe they were dying, and the loom of it made them brave. Or maybe the attack on Crul had sparked their bloodlust. Whatever their reason, Rey was unconcerned; she wanted them all.

“The ship is small,” she warned. “You’ll fit if we're creative, but it won't be a comfortable ride.”

“We've squeezed in worse, I bet,” one of the original boys teased. He seemed to be one of the youngest, but when he spoke his voice was full of raspy air like an old man’s. Kylo’s gut clenched. This one, at least, was definitely dying.

That was good enough for Rey and Finn. Wasting no more time, the two of them lead the group back to the ship, Kylo bringing up the rear to ensure they weren’t followed. They made it back without incident, and after several long minutes of packing and repacking, all of the new recruits managed to squeeze into the cargo hold. 

Hopping into the cockpit more cheerful than when they left, Finn, Rey, and Kylo set course for Belsavis. For his own part, Ren had never been more excited to land on that hunk of ice than after having seen Taris.

It played out much the same wherever they went. News of the Crul attack spread like wildfire among those sympathetic to the Resistance. The reminder of the Order’s fallibility boosted morale, and cities that before had offered only handfuls of new recruits now churned out dozens. 

It was exhilarating, if only a little inconvenient. Supplies ran short quick-- trips to off-world markets were more frequent now-- and many of the new recruits were asked to share rooms. They'd need to make other arrangements eventually, but for now everyone was content to work around each other. The close quarters helped the newcomers acclimate, forcing interactions that might otherwise have been avoided, and no one seemed concerned with their shrinking personal space.

Everything was exactly as Ren remembered: the close press of bodies, strangers making friends too quickly. The Resistance had always worked this way, and finding himself in the middle of it again was odd. Of all the people on Belsavis, Kylo was-- not surprisingly-- the one new recruits gave the widest berth. His reputation had been spat across the galaxy, and even those gathered from the reaches of the Outer Rim seemed to know it. Still, it took only a week or two for newcomers to warm up to him. They weren’t friendly, but they nodded in passing, met his eyes, didn’t move when they found themselves next to him at a meeting.

It wasn’t camaraderie, but it was something. Something unexpected, in fact. Kylo had anticipated spending his time on Belsavis being toed around like a wild dog, but the mission’s success had put a shine on his reputation. Very few liked him, but he’d proven dependable, and the latter was more valuable. More certain that he could be trusted, Poe kept his word and lengthened Ren’s leash. He suspended Kylo’s curfew, and authorized freer movement on base. Unless Ren planned to go outside, the guard detail was no longer necessary.

“This doesn’t make us friends,” Dameron reminded when he came to deliver the news. 

Kylo had been at his desk, pouring over one of the texts Rey had lent him. Their next training session was set for the following afternoon, and Ren was on the hunt for something new to try. He was leafing through a section on force healing techniques-- an area the woman had already show promise in-- when Poe propped himself in the open door.

“I’m aware, Commander.” 

“Good.” The other man shifted, crossing his arms hard over his chest. “Since Captain Leena’s team is going to be busy now, I expect a full day’s notice if you’re going to need them. At least.”

“Understood.”

Poe nodded, and after a cursory glance around the room pushed off the door frame, heading for the hall. Kylo hesitated a moment, thumbing the edge of his page, then sighed. Hopping from his chair, he hurried to the door and leaned out in time to catch Poe in the hall.

“Dameron,” he called. The other man halted, and Kylo waited for the man to peek back over his shoulder before continuing. “Thank you.”

The hard clench of the man’s jaw slackened, and he nodded. 

“Don’t make me regret it.”

 

 

“Rey tells me you’ve been training together.” 

Leia's tone was light, conversational, but the words still put Kylo on alert. He shifted on the bed, turning to face her more fully.

The two were in Leia’s quarters, had been for nearly an hour. It’d become their ritual since Ren’s curfew was lifted. Each week he’d visit to cycle through prayers, watch her light the candles, help bless the wine and bread. Occasionally, when the General was feeling sentimental, she would even ask him to bend for a blessing himself. He’d resisted the request initially-- _I’m not a child_ \-- but soon relented. She made it difficult not to. Stubbornly ignoring his hesitation, she reached for his head, pressing it down to the height that suited her. 

_You’re_ my _child_ , she’d retorted. _Listen to your mother_.

He hadn’t fought after that; admittedly, he hadn’t fought hard to begin with. His head was bowed before he’d officially agreed, her hands cupped over his hair. The contact was tender, reminded him of long gone nights under this same light, and Kylo found he didn’t mind it as much as he’d expected. 

Resigning himself to her will, he allowed the gesture whenever the General was so moved, letting the familiar words-- _bless you and guard you; show you favor; grant you peace_ \-- warm him.

“Don’t look so scandalized,” Leia chuckled. “She tells me a lot of things.”

That was what worried him. “Such as?”

The General shrugged, sprinkling salt over the braided bread. Kylo watched it fall, thinking of Crait: salt crackling under his boots, the white plain cleaved by Luke’s dark figure. Not for the first time since their clash, Ren thought of Skywalker’s words-- _I’ll always be with you_ \-- and felt cursed.

Did Leia think of her brother during this part as well? Was her memory of him inextricably linked to that coarse grain? If it was, she didn’t let on. She sprinkled the bread quickly, then tore herself off a small corner, motioning for Kylo to do the same. As he did, she reached for the wine on her desk and poured some for them both.

“When Han and I met,” she began, passing Kylo a glass, “do you know what my first thought was?”

Ren accepted the glass, shaking his head. He’d heard many of General Organa’s stories, but this was new territory. He settled more comfortably into her bed and sipped his wine, letting her speak.

“We both had… a lot going on then.” Mirroring her son, Leia tucked her legs and scooted deeper into bed, leaning against the wall it rested on. “Han’s reputation kept him busy, and I had the Alliance to worry about, and the two of us kept getting in each other’s way.” She took a sip of wine, smiling a little at the memory. “Luke joked about it being fate, but all I can remember thinking was: what a terrible time to meet someone.”

“War generally is. You had more important things to think of.”

Leia shook her head. “Not more important. Just more pressing.”

Kylo didn’t see the difference, personally.

“War doesn’t bring out the best in people,” she said. “It highlights their hate and fear. Some people do alright, but most of us--” she waved a hand, and Kylo couldn’t tell if she was gesturing to him or herself. “--just make asses of ourselves.”

She paused, twirling her glass. It made a whirl in her wine that Kylo watched spin out. He couldn’t guess what she was thinking. Even if he could break through her mental defenses, he wouldn’t try. Leia had always been a private woman, and would lash out at the intrusion.

“I wasn’t good to him then,” she picked up after a moment. “And he wasn’t good to me. We fed off each other, knew exactly what to say to pick a fight. It was something we could control. No matter what was going on outside-- which outpost had been blow up or how many of our friends died in battle-- our fights started and ended when we wanted.” She took a swig of wine, swallowing hard. “Not the healthiest start to a relationship.”

Kylo picked at the bread and dried fruit between them. Leia and Han’s relationship had always been a touchy subject. They’d loved each other; that much was clear, but it was no secret their personalities could clash. Kylo had been present for more than one of their fights, and knew how colorful they could be.

“Why are you telling me this?” 

It wasn’t in Leia’s nature to share something personal unnecessarily. He didn’t want to offend her, but he couldn’t see what she meant by it. Smirking over the rim of her glass, the General reached for a wrinkled berry.

“Sometimes I wish I’d met your father at a different time in my life. More often though, I just wish I’d been kinder.” She met Ren’s gaze over the bread plate. “You can’t control when you meet someone. The best you can do is keep the circumstances from affecting how you treat them.”

Was she talking about Han still? Kylo couldn’t tell. She said she’d spoken with Rey, but what the woman would’ve said to prompt this conversation he couldn’t guess. The two of them hadn’t so much as disagreed since he’d come to Belsavis.

“I don’t know what Rey told you,” he said quickly, “but I haven’t--”

Leia waved a hand, cutting him off. “She’s had only good things to say.”

“I don’t understand, then. We aren’t even-- we haven’t…”

Kylo bit his tongue, chasing the sting with a mouthful of wine. What could he say? That he and Rey were friends was obvious. He wouldn’t have dared consider the possibility before, but the two had grown close since he'd come to Belsavis. They weren't overly similar, but they complemented one another well. More importantly, something-- Kylo wouldn't pretend to know what-- drew them together. Beyond their desire to grow and learn and master, there was something else: some other keening want that made Ren's knuckles ache.

Rey hadn't tried to kiss him again. She didn't seem to regret it, but neither was she eager to repeat it. Kylo could understand. This was, as General Organa had said, a terrible time. Still, their interactions had shifted. Rey sat closer, touched him more freely, sought him out more personally. They’d spent much of their time together before, but it was largely centered on training or mission planning. Since that afternoon, however, Rey had made a point to be more forthcoming. Whenever the mood struck, she shared personal things: her history on Jakku, her feelings on this or that decision the officers made, what dream she'd had the night before. 

She didn't press for reciprocation, though it was obvious she wanted it. She asked questions, waited patiently for Kylo to expand when he gave short, stilted answers. One of Ren’s more prominent inheritances from Leia, now that he was old enough to appreciate their similarities, was his penchant for privacy. He’d never been fond of sharing, and certainly not anything as personal as Rey hoped for. Still, the woman had been generous with her own stories, and dodging questions made him feel boorish. She wasn’t a rival, after all, gathering intel to drag him to some nasty end. 

“I’ve been around, Ben,” Leia said finally, interrupting his thoughts. “A few more times than both of you.”

Kylo bristled, downing the last of his wine. He didn’t want to imagine the General _being_ anywhere with anyone, or what confessions she’d weaseled out of Rey with her matronly charm. 

“I’m not having this conversation.”

Leia tittered, but ceded ground. “Fine, we won’t have it.” She nodded to his empty glass. “Another? Or are you done with me for the night?”

Kylo thumbed the stem of his glass. He was done drinking, certainly, but not quite ready to leave. Setting the empty glass aside, he reached for the prayer book Leia had left on the bed. It was old-- not as ancient as her candlesticks, though likely something she’d had since childhood-- but well cared for. The only real damage was at the edges of the pages, which were smudged and creased from a lifetime of use.

“Your grandfather Bail had that made when I was thirteen.” Leia’s voice was softer now. She watched Kylo’s fingers trace the lettering on the cover before continuing. “There was a man in Aldera who specialized in them. He made the best in the city. I wish I’d--”

She trailed off, sipping her wine to cover it; Kylo could guess what she’d meant to say. Whoever the bookmaker had been, he was likely the family supplier. Kylo-- no, in this fantasy, Ben. Ben would’ve been presented with his own around that age as well, had the planet not been destroyed. 

He imagined the books, parchments, and inks trembling as Alderaan collapsed on itself, and felt the wine sour in his gut.

“Tell me about him,” he said, willing the nausea to subside.

“The bookmaker?”

“Bail.”

Leia’s brow quirked. “I didn’t know you were interested in him.”

Historically, Kylo hadn’t been. Politics bored him; as a child he’d been far more interested in Luke and Leia. And once he’d learned of their biological father-- well. The looming figure of Darth Vader was consumptive, and what little interest he had in the Organas’ withered. But it had been many long years since he’d heard any of Leia’s stories about the man, and that paired with the lovingly bound prayer book in his hand had piqued his interest. The General’s life hadn’t begun at her meeting of Luke and Han, any more than it had ended with Alderaan’s destruction.

“I am,” he said, setting the book aside carefully. “More than I was, at least.”

The General studied him for a moment before relenting. With a small nod, she settled deeper into the bed. “What do you want to know?”

Kylo shrugged, plucking a sliver of dried plum from the plate. “Whatever you’d like to tell.”

 

 

 

Five months after the attack on Crul, Belsavis over-reached its capacity.

In truth it’d been reached before that, but the fact could no longer be ignored. With the exception of Kylo’s, who still wasn’t trusted enough to be slept near, every personal room worked double duty. Extra blankets had been dragged in, giving everyone at least one roommate; two if the room was large enough. Food supply levels were also critical. Nearly all of the dried and preserved goods they’d gotten from Crul had run out, and weekly trips to off-world markets were now necessary to keep everyone fed. 

This, of course, wasn’t sustainable. Though quickly gaining members, the Resistance was still weak. General Organa was its primary patron, with the occasional donation from newly enlisted recruits and their families, and their coffers were all but empty. If the Resistance wanted any hope of building up funds, or at least not starving in the tundra, they needed a new plan. Belsavis was an ideal stronghold for many reasons, but stuffing all of their soldiers into it was no longer practical. 

They needed a secondary outpost, somewhere that could run and sustain itself independently. They needed, as Kylo had suggested upon arriving, Voss, and their situation had finally become precarious enough for Poe to admit it.

True to character, Dameron yielded at a most inconvenient moment.

Kylo and Rey were in one of the training rooms, practicing lightsaber forms when he barged in. They’d spent their sessions that week sparring, Rey with her quarterstaff and Kylo with one he’d borrowed from Major Akiva. Rey didn’t have a saber now that Skywalker’s had been destroyed, and Ren hadn’t had access to his since landing; still, it was good to keep the skill up. With any luck, he wouldn’t be parted from his saber forever, and as for Rey: there were dozens of passages in the books on weapon construction. Making one for herself was a more than attainable goal. 

In the intervening time, however, Ren was determined to keep them both in shape. Wielding a saber was more intensive than firing a blaster, and Rey was years behind himself in practice. Every other week he pulled her nose from the books and into the ring, eager to catch her up. The effort was paying off. Rey was an excellent fighter, skilled already at close combat. Her years of work with a quarterstaff had warmed her to the theme; it was only a matter now of tuning her footwork and introducing her to basic forms. Once she’d mastered that, Kylo was sure she’d pick up advanced techniques quickly.

“Hate to interrupt,” Poe’s voice cut from the door.

Kylo’s guard dropped, knocked off by the interruption. When had the man come in? He hadn’t heard the door. Rey, not expecting it either, didn’t have time to alter her swing. Without Kylo’s staff to block it, the butt of her quarterstaff clocked his jaw, sending him stumbling back several steps. She cussed, dropping her weapon.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, sounding chagrined.

Ren waved it off, rubbing the sore spot at his jaw. It would likely bruise, but otherwise no damage had been done.

“Nice hit,” Dameron chuckled.

Rey flushed a little, but still greeted the man with a smile. “What do you want?”

“What? A guy can’t just check in on his favorite duo?”

“He could,” Kylo said dryly. “But seeing as half of that duo is currently off base, that still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Finn got back an hour ago, actually, but fair point.” Poe walked deeper into the room, his attention on Kylo now. “I just needed to touch base about something.”

“You have my attention, Commander.”

“I don’t need to tell you how uncomfortable our situation is getting. You’ve seen the numbers, gone on the supply runs.” Poe tongued the point of one tooth. “The other officers and I are meeting tonight to discuss our options, and they asked me to ask you about Voss.”

Kylo scooped up the canteen by his feet, taking a few deep pulls before answering. “What about it?”

“Is it still an option? With Hux back on alert, we don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.”

Ren considered. Voss had never been heavily guarded, intended largely for his and his Knight’s personal use. There was a small barracks and communication center, but it rarely housed more than thirty Troopers and one or two staff. Given how secluded it was and the Order’s general distrust of the ascetic group, it was often manned by even less. 

“I would say.” Kylo tossed the canteen to Rey. “At most we’d have to fight thirty men, though likely less. As I said, it was intended for personal use. Myself and the other Knights were often alone there, and I can’t imagine General Hux sparing many men to guard it.”

If Ren were still Supreme Leader perhaps, but not now. Not when he’d been missing for-- what, over half a year? 

“Your Knights,” Poe repeated, eyes narrowing at their corners.

“Snoke was no Sith Lord,” Kylo continued. “The old models didn't appeal to him. Though I was his special interest, he didn’t want a lone apprentice.”

“So, what, you had an army?”

Kylo blinked, a little stunned. Did Dameron really not know? He supposed the Knights of Ren had moved largely in secret. He chanced a glance over at Rey; her stare was just as blank as Poe's. It seemed this was the first both had heard of it.

“A team,” Ren clarified. “Six lesser Knights, all Force users, and myself as their leader.”

“First Order affiliated?”

“They answered to the Supreme Leader as the Order did, but beyond that there was no connection. Since my disappearance, it’s unlikely Hux has had contact.”

“Have you?”

Kylo huffed a small laugh. He’d thought of reaching out a dozen times, but ultimately decided against it. Calling them to Belsavis would’ve only gotten them imprisoned or worse. It would’ve been a betrayal of their trust. 

“No, Commander. Not a word.”

Poe’s eyes tracked between his for a moment, seeking a lie. Kylo was careful not to look away. Though Dameron had certainly been less hostile towards him the last few months, a hard line of mistrust still lay between them.

“We won’t worry, then,” the other man said after a while, though he didn't look entirely sold. “If they aren’t looking for us, we aren’t looking for them. Our main concern now is safely expanding. You sure we can do that on Voss?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll pass it along, then. We should have a decision sometime tomorrow. I’ll keep you posted.” Dameron turned to Rey, brightening instantly. “Keep him in line, yea? If he gives you any trouble--”

Poe mimed Rey’s earlier swing to Kylo’s jaw. Ren rolled his eyes, but Rey gave a gentle laugh.

“I’ll be fine, Poe,” she said. “If you see Finn again, tell him I’ll be by later.”

“Sure thing.” He waved to them both, heading for the door. “Keep an eye out for my memo,” he called over his shoulder. “And don’t kill each other in here.”

He slipped out of the room before either could respond, sealing the door behind him. Relieved to be free of him, Kylo sighed.

“What?” Rey asked, leaning on her staff.

Kylo reached for the canteen in her hand. “Nothing. I only expected a bit of trust after eight months.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Rey released the canteen, smiling patiently. “You wouldn’t be alone with me if he didn’t trust you. You just surprised him, and you know how he is. He doesn’t like not knowing things.”

“What’s there to know?” Kylo wiped his mouth dry and recapped the canteen, dropping it to the floor. “My-- the Knights are a non-issue. Explaining their roles and functions in any detail would’ve only wasted time in the beginning, and after--”

“You aren’t being court-martialed,” Rey interrupted, her tone low and soothing. “You don’t have to justify the choice to me. I can guess why you didn’t bring them up.”

Kylo’s eyes narrowed. Was she insinuating something? He couldn’t tell. Noticing the shift in his expression, Rey pressed on quickly.

“Don’t get defensive,” she said, a little weary. “I’m not angry at you for not wanting to put a target on your friend’s backs.”

Friend was a pale, ill-fitting word, but he didn’t offer a better one. Rey seemed sincere, and Kylo didn’t want to fight over this. Sighing, he nodded his understanding. Rey returned it, and palmed her staff again.

“I won’t pretend I’m not interested,” she amended. “I’d like to hear about them, but I won’t try to worm it out of you.” She spread her feet, bent a little at the knees, and raised her staff as they’d practiced. “Now, break’s over. Unless you quit?”

Her smile widened, exposing the bright tips of her teeth. She was teasing again, and the fact set Kylo at ease. Whatever she felt about the Knights, it hadn’t had a lasting effect on her mood, and Ren was sure now that she'd willingly drop the subject. He was grateful for that. The Knights were a sore subject, and he felt their growing separation like a boot on his throat. 

“I’ll quit when you make me,” he rebutted, mirroring her pose.

Something flickered through Rey’s eyes, wild and green and promising. The sight made Ren’s gut ache, but he didn’t so much as shift. 

He held his ground, eyes darting between Rey’s center and the blunt end of her staff, and waited for her to make her move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come cry with me about Star Wars on tumblr @cryptid-coalition


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things go askew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than the others, but there was a lot of action and plot to squeeze in before next week's chapter (which I'm already excited about). For a lot of reasons this week has been tough, and I'm still too exhausted to know exactly how I feel about this one, but I'm thrilled to have it finished and up in time. Hope y'all enjoy it!

Barely a full cycle after Poe’s interruption, Captain Leena delivered an update to Kylo’s room.

It came sooner than Ren expected. Deliberation over Crul had been longer, but he supposed that mission had been more risky. Voss was nowhere near as guarded, and besides: the need was more pressing. Had the meeting been called months ago, the officers might've waffled. With most rooms sleeping three now, however, and both food and funds getting scarce, there was little time to waste. The Resistance needed a second base, and soon. The finer details of acquisition seemed of little concern to its leadership.

After drawing Kylo into the hall with a sharp knock, Captain Leena presented him with the memo. It was a short note, scrawled on a scrap in Dameron's messy handwriting.

 _Voss is go,_ it read. _Briefing tomorrow morning in the main war room. I'll send a wake up call. Don't be late._

Kylo smirked at the smudged signature. This was the first he'd seen of Poe’s hand, but he'd imagined what it'd look like more than once. Writing was a distraction of his, had been since he was young; not the composition of stories so much as lettering. He'd spent hours as a child perfecting his script, experimenting with both flowering and severe, blockish styles. Even as an adult he'd kept up with it, and passed many nights on Hux's ships forming strings of letters or rewriting passages from books. 

The hobby had heightened his awareness of other's handwriting, and he couldn't help but wonder when he saw someone with pen in hand. Did they close their loops, or leave a small gap? Were their letters cramped and narrow, or full like a child's? Kylo had seen Dameron taking notes during meetings, but hadn't been close enough to determine any more than the man was left-handed. Seeing it now, however, Kylo wasn't disappointed. It was scratchy and cramped, slanting without guiding lines; few flourishes, and a signature so messy Ren only recognized the opening letters of the first and last name. Careful not to smudge the ink, Kylo pocketed the note, planning to put it in his desk with the samples of Rey and Finn's. 

Kylo thanked Leena for the delivery. Signing had never been his strong suit, but he'd picked up basics during the woman's stint as his guard. She’d taken to him quickly, and hadn’t minded helping him learn. Smiling thinly, the Captain said her goodbyes then disappeared down the hall. Ren returned to his room after that, fishing the commlink he’d been given from under his pillow to call Rey. She'd gotten her own note by then, as had Finn, who called through the line after her. Both of theirs read much the same, though the wording was admittedly friendlier.

“Any word on who else will be there?”

“Not that I've heard,” Rey said.

There was a rustle through the line as Finn tugged the comm closer to himself.

“It’ll be new recruits,” he said. “Akiva wants them to get off-world experience.”

Kylo hummed. He didn't entirely care for the idea, having grown fond of them in spite of himself. Most of the new recruits were young, overwhelmingly so, and he’d watched them train and grow from their first days on base. At Rey’s insistence, he’d even participated in some of the training himself. The thought of dropping them-- who at home might still have been considered children-- into battle set his teeth on edge.

“Ben?” Rey's voice chimed after a moment. “Are you still there?”

Kylo cleared his throat. He was being ridiculous.

“Yes,” he muttered. “Well, Akiva picked an excellent time.” He pulled out the chair at his desk and sunk into it. “So long as our Commander plans accordingly, there shouldn’t be any danger.”

The three of them spoke a while longer, guessing which of the recruits Poe picked and how many. After a few minutes, however, the break Kylo had interrupted ended. He heard the clambering of chairs through the line as Rey signed off.

“Have to get going,” she said quickly. “Still repairing the ships that got caught in the ice storm. See you in the morning.”

Kylo waited for the line to go dead, then tucked his comm back under the pillow.

As promised, his wake up call came early the next morning. Ren had trouble falling asleep, and had only been in bed a few hours when the door to his room slid open. Some girl Ren vaguely recognized came barreling in, apparently having been awake for some time already. Nerves, Kylo supposed.

He dragged himself through the morning routine, dressing quickly so as not to keep her waiting. She was polite enough, stood casually just outside the door, but Ren didn't miss how she kept checking her datapad for the time. Still combing out his hair with his fingers, Kylo met her at the door and let her lead the way to the meeting.

Rey and Finn were waiting when he arrived, and had saved a spot between themselves for him. They'd made it early enough to snag seats at the table, for which Ren was grateful. He felt half-dead still, and fell into the soft chair with a groan.

“Still not a morning person, huh?” Finn teased, sliding him a thermos. 

The smell of watery caf steamed up from it, and Kylo pulled it closer. He took several large gulps in lieu of answering.

The room around them filled quickly. In minutes the table was full, leaving the few stragglers to lean against the wall. Dameron was last to arrive, and when he entered he wasted no time in heading to the front.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, out of breath. “Had an emergency at the docking bay.”

“Another storm?” one of the girls along the wall asked.

Dameron nodded, but didn’t look up from where he’d begun typing. After a few insistent taps an ancient projector whirred to life, and a screen of queasy green light flickered into place above the table. He punched in a set of coordinates and the map blew wide, hopping between grainy projections of planets as it searched.

“It’s not here yet,” he said, eyes tracking the dash between planets. “But we could see it kicking up on the horizon, so I helped bring the ships into the bunker. We can’t afford to have any more out of commission.” His attention flicked to Rey. “Speaking of, how’s repair going?”

“Not perfect, but a day’s more work should have them operational.”

The man grinned. “That’s what I like to hear. Now--” he looked around the room, taking the group in. “If everyone’s ready I’d like to get started.”

Once the room settled, Dameron deferred to Kylo, calling on him to give an overview of Voss. Ren did as he was told, blowing the projection of the planet wide and letting it spin on display as he spoke. It was a temperate planet, he said, speckled with forests and high, cracking mountains. It was home to two native species, but neither ventured close to Ren’s established base. The largest native group, the Gormak, seemed to associate the Knights of Ren with the Sith, a group with whom they had a bloody history. The old fear caused them to give the camp a wide berth, and because of it Kylo was certain the Resistance wouldn't run into interference.

“The camp is in the largest clearing,” Ren said, “but there's a smaller one two miles south we could use. Most Gormak don't go on that side of the forest, so we won't draw attention.”

“Why not?”

Kylo scanned the room for the voice. It belonged to one of the Taris boys, whose eyes were scrunched in suspicion.

“Why don't they go to that side?” he asked again.

“It's the edge of the Nightmare Lands. There's rarely any activity that far out, but they've learned to be cautious. A tribe of corrupted Gormak inside used to attack intruders, but they haven't come that close to the edge in decades.”

“Corrupted?” Another Taris boy chimed in, looking mildly horrified. “And you want us to land there?”

Ren made to respond, but Poe cut him off.

“From what I understand,” Dameron began, standing from his seat. “The temple, its, ah, mystic center is empty now. Right?” He waited for Kylo to nod before continuing. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about. It’s been dormant since the Old Republic. Unless you’re Force sensitive like our friends here, you probably won't pick up on anything at all.”

Kylo met Dameron’s eyes over the table, a little surprised. When Ren had first mentioned the Nightmare Lands, the Commander hadn’t known anything at all. Had he asked Commander Erie about it during the officer’s meeting? He must have. Making sure he had the other man’s attention, Kylo signed a _thank you_. Dameron waved it off, but a smirk turned the corner of his mouth.

“What do you say?” Dameron said, looking around the room. “Think we can handle a walk in the woods?

A beat of silence, then the room grumbled its assent.

“Good.” Dameron pushed out his chair and headed for the front, motioning for Kylo to fall back. “Now that’s out of the way, let’s get back to it.”

Once back at the map, Poe laid out his plan for acquisition. At the end of the week, they'd take four ships to Voss. Twenty-five new recruits, under the watchful eye of himself, Rey, Finn, and Kylo should be more than enough to take the poorly guarded base. They’d sweep out from the trees, infiltrate, and have control of the compound within hours. Once it was secure, diversion of the Order’s attention would be left to Ren. Kylo had played with the scheduling rotation often enough in the past to ensure his Knights had time alone on base; it wouldn’t be any trouble to do it again.

As for settling in-- well, they could worry about that once they’d taken Voss.

“Any questions for now?” Dameron asked.

Kylo glanced around the room with him. The chosen soldiers looked between them anxiously, beginning already to feel the press of their first mission, but no one spoke up. 

“We’ll start this afternoon, then,” Dameron said decisively. “Report to the training rooms after lunch; we’ll divide you into teams there.”

-

-

Kylo didn't often admit to being wrong; another Skywalker family trait, if General Organa’s own stubbornness was anything to judge by. Still, when the Resistance touched down on Voss days later, Ren felt an uneasy tug in his chest. The forest around them was still, but the air was tense, drawn back tight against something unseen. Something had passed through here recently, and like dead muscle under live wire, the trees twitched in memory.

“Stay alert,” Kylo whispered at Rey's ear. “Something isn't right.”

To her credit, Rey didn't react. She merely nodded, then called for the teams to assemble. She helped Dameron and Finn corral the recruits into formation, leaving Kylo to patrol the perimeter. He made a slow march around the clearing, peering between the gnarled, mossy trees for any sign of disturbance. 

Nothing. There was only the shadows of ancient trees and the earthy smell of rot. Ren closed his eyes, focusing on the pulse of the woods around him, but felt no abnormalities. Nothing new, man or spirit, had taken up residence since his last visit. The forest was a sleepy echo of its former terror; whatever Kylo sensed, it had only been passing through. 

_Where to?_ , he wondered, but Rey gave him no time. She whistled across the clearing, calling him back to the group. Once he rejoined them, Poe named Ren their guide and placed him at the head of the teams. Taking only a moment longer to assure everyone was in place, the group began their march out of the woods.

The trek was slower than Kylo anticipated. Despite the fullness of noon, little light penetrated the canopy. Once they left the clearing, the darkness swarmed, slowing progress to a creep. Above them the leaves shivered, fanning out like fingers to close gaps. Though the trees around them thinned as they approached the next clearing, the path only grew dimmer; if he looked up, Ren knew he’d see the canopy stitching itself together.

The roots worked against them as well. Even as the path widened and trees grew sparse, thick roots broke ground all around them. They reached up in the gloom, tripping the teams as they struggled to make time. Kylo could hear the recruits whispering to one another behind him, their voices pitching as new roots clawed to the surface.

“Thought you said this place was dormant,” Dameron said, sidling up to Kylo.

“It is.” 

Ren signaled over his shoulder for the teams to watch their step. His boot had caught under a large, curling root, and he didn’t want them to repeat the mistake.

“So what’s with this?” Poe gestured to the roots, to the canopy closing in tighter above them. “Don’t know if you noticed, but this isn’t normal tree behavior.”

“Dormant isn’t the same as dead.” He threw his arm out to halt Poe. A huge root had worked to the surface, and just on the other side of it a deep trench had been dug. A trap, no doubt, laid by the few Gormak who called the forest home. “There’s power here still; it just has to be coaxed out.”

Poe grunted at the contact, but any frustration he felt melted as he peered into the dark belly of the trench. He mumbled a thanks before continuing.

“Is that what you told Rey? Saw you two whispering. Anything I should know about?”

Dameron’s tone was casual enough, but there was a thin line of suspicion in his words. Kylo sighed. He didn’t expect Poe to like him. For his own part, he didn’t care much for the Commander either. He was coarse, cocky, and abrasive, traits that’d bristled Ren since he’d first begun to recognize them in Han Solo. Still, he’d hoped by now he’d proven himself. 

Turning where he stood, Kylo motioned for the teams to go around the trench instead of jumping. The earth on the opposite bank looked lose, and Ren didn’t trust it to hold.

“I sensed something when we first landed," he confessed, watching the group round the edge. "Some disturbance.”

“What kind of disturbance?”

Kylo shrugged. “It was too faint to say for certain. Whatever it was, it was powerful. Enough so to make the forest roll in its sleep. This--” he pointed to the roots twisting by his feet. “--isn’t happening just because Rey and I are passing through.”

“You think we’ll run into something while we’re here?”

“Not likely. The trail is a week old at least, and the air feels--” he paused, swiping his tongue over his lip. “Anxious. Whatever came before us was in a hurry. I can’t imagine it lingered.”

Poe nodded, watching the last of the team round the trench. 

“In the future,” he said quietly, “I’d advise sharing something like that with me. I realize you and Rey have a, ah, different relationship than we do, but I’m your Commander. If there’s anything that might affect the mission, I need to know.”

Kylo didn’t like how Dameron drawled the word _different_. “I didn’t intentionally--”

“I know,” Dameron interrupted. “This is a reminder, not an accusation. Believe it or not, I want to trust you. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make it hard.”

Ren bit back a retort. Schooling his expression, he gave Dameron a deferential nod, which the other man accepted.

“Get back to the front,” Poe said, jerking his head. “We need to keep moving.”

The Commander drove them on after that, urging the team from the back like a dog. Kylo matched his pace, jogging ahead of the team to scout out pitfalls and large, reaching roots. It was difficult work, nearly as exhausting as their trek to the Crul base, but the recruits didn’t lag. They seemed to have caught their second wind, and with Rey and Finn bolstering the middle ranks they made steady progress. 

A little over an hour later, the next clearing finally came into view over a hill. With light on the horizon the team let out a deep, collective sigh and gained speed, several knocking into Kylo in their bid to be the first out in the open. Ren moved aside to let them pass, but called after them to wait at the edge of the trees. Voss was a temperate planet, and seemed now to be in its Spring. The likelihood of its staff being outside was high, and Kylo didn’t like the idea of their team being spotted before they’d had a chance to regroup.

Thankfully, the recruits obeyed. When Kylo reached them, they were clustered at the base of a large tree, peering out into the clearing.

“You’ll be relieved to hear,” he said as he approached, “that the worst is over. Once we take the base, we won’t have to hide our--”

Kylo stopped short, words catching behind his teeth. The team wasn't listening; instead, they were focused on something in camp. Brow furrowing, he pushed through the crowd for a better look.

His attention snagged on the barracks, and it took him several long seconds to register what he was seeing. To say the blast door was open, while technically correct, wouldn’t do the violence justice. The twin durasteel panels had taken substantial damage, its halves dented and curling away from each other as though something large had forced its way through. Something had been scrawled along the ruined panels, but Kylo couldn’t make it out from where he stood. The few windows he could see from this angle had received similar treatment. Their plexi had been shattered, and only a few sharp teeth still protruded from their corners. A circle of thick, wooden stakes were planted along the perimeter, and mounted on each was a Trooper's helmet. 

Where their owners were Kylo couldn’t guess; given the state of the barracks, it seemed unlikely he’d ever find out.

Rey, Finn, and Poe reached the clearing moments later, and all three of them staggered to a halt behind him. There was a long, cold silence as each surveyed the scene, then Dameron dragged Kylo back by the shoulder.

“Ren.” Dameron’s voice blew hostile against the shell of his ear, and his grip bit through Kylo’s tunic. “You’ve got thirty seconds to tell me what I’m looking at.”

“If I had to guess,” Kylo breathed, “I’d say the base was raided.”

“By what? You said nothing came near camp.”

“Historically, nothing has. However--” Ren winced as Poe’s nails dug deeper into his shoulder. “--it’s been two years since I visited. The likelihood of relations having worsened since are high.”

It was true enough. Many small bases had suffered something similar. The Order was careful, but it was impossible to totally protect each base, especially those as far-flung as Voss. If there’d been rumblings of a Gormak uprising, it was likely the General had done nothing more than advise those stationed to hold out. Hux couldn’t win all the time, after all, and if he had to lose something, the base of a defunct Supreme Leader wouldn’t be unendurable.

“You’re telling me this _now_?”

“I hadn’t considered it before." Dameron’s grip redoubled, and Ren wondered how seriously the man was considering driving his head through one of those spikes. “I know how this looks, Commander, but you need--”

“If you tell me to relax, Ren, I swear--”

“Stop,” Rey spat. She took Poe by the wrist and tugged him back, freeing Kylo. “Both of you. It’s not helping.”

Ren spun to face Dameron, not wanting his back exposed just now. Poe’s fists were tight at his side, clenching rhythmically, but he worked to school himself. He breathed in deeply through his nose, exhaling several times before speaking again.

“I apologize,” he said stiffly. “That was uncalled for. I just…” His attention darted to the new recruits. They were huddled around the tree still, enthralled by the camp. “We only have the manpower for a small takeover. Anything more than that and we’re dead.”

“I know that, but think for a minute. This couldn’t have happened today. Not even the last few days, I’d wager. Look closer at the helmets.”

Dameron did, squinting to bring them into focus. A few had been smeared with blood during the fray, and the thick streaks were browned and dry, flaking off in large hunks. The helmets had sat for a while, at least, and around them camp was quiet. No sound came from the open barracks, no smoke from the kitchen or the huts visible over the compound’s low roof. Whatever had done this, it didn’t seem to have stayed. 

“What are you thinking?” Dameron asked after a while. “Some sort of demonstration? Locals wanting to scare the Order off?”

“Maybe.” Kylo reached down, tugging his blaster from the holster at his calf. “With your permission, I’ll scout ahead. Some surveillance cameras still seem to be in place. If they’re operational, I can check the rest of camp from the control room.”

“You're volunteering?”

“Yes. I'd like a partner, though.”

“I'll come,” Rey said quickly. She pulled her own blaster free and released the safety. “Like hell are you going alone.”

Dameron looked between them a moment before resigning. 

“Fine,” he sighed. “Just be quick, and keep your comms live.”

Kylo and Rey both made a show of turning on their links, then slipped through the trees together, making for camp.

-

-

Once inside, it was obvious the barracks had been deserted for at least a week.

A thick mix of dirt and grass that'd blown through the door laid undisturbed in the hall, as did the discarded weapons and pieces of armor that matched the mounted helmets. Wherever had become of the Troopers, they’d first been stripped in the main hall; burned, maybe, though given the tastes of the Gormak, perhaps cooked.

He and Rey made a quick circuit of the barracks, checking the mess hall, kitchen, and sleeping quarters before heading to the control room. That door had been forced open as well; once inside, it was clear why. Nearly all the tech inside had been smashed: the communicators, the panels for lights and temperature controls, as well as the machine that beamed out reminders of scheduling rotations. Whoever had done this, they’d wanted to be sure the base was cut off from the Order. Not, however, from the rest of the planet. The screens that connected to the security cameras were unharmed, giving Ren and Rey an uninterrupted view of the base. 

Expecting company, perhaps, or simply preparing for it. Whatever the reason, Ren didn’t like it. Being able to monitor camp wouldn’t matter if the assailants had no intention of returning. 

“They might’ve just wanted to make sure no more Troopers were lurking,” Rey said, squinting at a grainy screen.

Kylo wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to argue. Base was clear for now, and the sooner the Resistance moved in, the better their chances of defending it. Digging his comm from his pocket, he reported what they’d found to Poe. The Commander’s sigh of relief blew heavy through the line, and Kylo could see the teams advancing on camp before the other man had signed off.

The rest of the day passed quickly. The teams split to work: two stayed in the barracks, clearing debris and repairing the communicators; two-- led by Poe-- back to the first clearing to bring around their ships; and the final clearing the mess outside. The last made a pile of the helmets and stakes for burning, and drew water from the exposed well to scrub the writing off the door. Kylo examined it first at their request, as none of them recognized the script.

“Is it local?” one of the girls asked.

“No.” Ren ran his fingers over the dried paint. The letters were made of thick, sure strokes, their tilt almost familiar. Where had he seen it before? “It’s dead. Pre-Corellian, actually.”

Her nose scrunched. “Why would they use that? No one knows how to read it.”

“Some do, but it’s dull to learn. I picked up some while…” he shook himself, redirected. What did it matter to her where he’d learned it? “The top says _purged_ , and the bottom says _freed_.” 

“What do you think it means?”

“They probably thought the Order didn’t belong on Voss,” Rey interjected. She peered over Kylo’s shoulder at the script, less wary now that it’d been translated. “I bet this was some sort of liberation.”

For their sake, Ren hoped so. The Resistance needed as much sympathetic muscle as it could get.

Poe returned with their ships an hour later, bringing them down in the courtyard between the barracks and stone huts. He and the team he’d flown with unpacked their supplies, storing them in the nearest hut. After transferring all the med packs, dried goods, spare weapons and munitions into the single room, they shut the door and window tight and headed in to help with the communicators.

Kylo spent his time hopping between groups: fumbling with wiring, scrubbing at the door, stirring the embers of the pyre they’d built for the helmets. As the day dragged, however, he found himself drifting. The anxious thrum he’d felt in the forest hadn’t dissipated. It’d waned for a while, but as night drew in he felt it ticking up again. The air around him thickened, crackling with some barely concealed electric signature. If he closed his eyes, let his mind wander, he could almost feel it work through him.

“Ben?”

Kylo jumped, eyes blowing wide, but it was only Rey. She stood just beyond the fire, looking down at him where he crouched.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he mumbled, but he was distracted still. There was something, _something_ , puttering just beneath Rey’s voice. He’d heard it, or thought he had. “How do you feel?”

She looked taken aback by the question. “Ah, happy, I guess? I had my doubts when I first saw--”

“No,” he interrupted, poking absently at the fire. “Now, I mean. Can you feel anything?”

Rey’s shoulders drew tight in the flickering light. She moved to his side of the flame and crouched, her eyes tracking the treeline.

“I thought it was just the forest at first,” she whispered, her voice nearly swallowed by the pop of wood. “With the way the roots moved earlier, I just assumed, but…” She swallowed, shook her head. “I don't know. Maybe it’s nothing.”

“What?”

“I saw something a half hour ago between the trees. Then in the grass on this side of them. I tried to follow it, but when I caught up it was gone. Maybe it was an animal, but I haven’t felt alone since. There’s been--” she paused, tapping at her temple. “--something here. Not digging in, just...hovering. Like it’s keeping tabs.”

Kylo knew the feeling. Since the sun sank, there’d been a hum at the edge of his mind. It didn’t drill any deeper, didn’t move at all unless Ren tried to chase it. Then it retreated, but only just: far enough to avoid detection while still maintaining contact. Rey was right; it wasn’t an animal, though what it was Kylo couldn’t say. It was telepathic, but that hardly narrowed the field. Nearly every creature had some heightened sense or other, and this planet in particular was rich in strange beings. 

“Do you think-- whoever raided base, could it be them?”

Kylo hoped not. What came stalking in the night didn’t often come to parley. 

“I think,” Ren said, rising to his feet, “we should look around base. Have you seen the huts yet?”

Rey turned to look at him finally, peering up in confusion. Kylo guided her to her feet, pulling her close to press his lips to her ear. 

“Keep your blaster ready. If we isolate ourselves, we might draw it out.”

He felt Rey’s neck draw tight. Her breath stuttered a little, puffing hot against his jaw, but she agreed. Kylo dropped the stick and dusted off his hands, turning to lead her from the light. She followed without question, sidling beside him seconds later, and her hand stayed steady on her blaster.

They walked in silence, listening to the sounds of the courtyard around them. A few voices traveled over it, echoing out from the barracks, overlaid with the groans of the forest. It was too early in the season for most insects, but a few hardy ones screamed between the trees. The noise pitched and warbled, bouncing oddly off another grating sound: some high frequency energy spreading out from between the huts. As they neared, Ren felt his chest draw tight. Anticipation and wild, trembling nerves that weren’t his own ran around his feet, clawing up his legs. He looked to Rey, but they didn’t seem to be coming from her either. Apart from her darting, calculating eyes, she was a picture of calm.

Someone else then, or something else. Whatever Rey had seen slip through the trees had found its way to the huts, and was moving between them like smoke.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Rey whispered as they weaved between them. “If Poe finds out--”

Behind them, something ignited. Ren smelled it before he heard it: a distinct flush of ozone running out before a deep, churning whir. Then light, eerie and pale, flooded between the huts. It ran up the walls, casting his and Rey’s shadows against its yellow glare. A saber, and a yellow one at that. How many like it could there be, now that knowledge of construction was all but dead? Only one, Kylo thought, and his throat cinched.

“Kylo Ren.” The voice was soft, almost curious. “Back from the dead.”

The voice spurred Rey to action. Spinning on her heel, she leveled her blaster at the source of the light. Kylo, only seconds behind, managed to knock her wrist, altering the trajectory enough for the shot to miss. She cussed and took aim again, but Kylo grabbed her arm.

“Stop!” he panted, fingers trembling around her wrist. “Listen to me--” 

The woman glared, trying to wrestle free. The tall figure they face stood still, watching Kylo work Rey down. 

Laying his free hand over her barrel, he met Rey’s wild eyes with his own. “Listen to me,” he repeated. “Put it away.”

She faltered, brow scrunched as she searched his face. He didn’t want to think of how he looked: wide eyed, jaw slack, shoulders shaking in absolute recognition of the figure before them. 

“Ben?”

“Please.”

The woman’s eyes flicked warily between Kylo and the intruder. For a minute, Ren thought she might take the shot anyway, fire at the intruder through his hand. He wondered if it'd go through clean, or if it’d take his hand off at the wrist-- but Rey’s resolve broke. Swallowing hard, she activated the blaster’s safety and tugged away. Kylo let her go this time, and she holstered her gun.

The intruder, a Neimoidian woman dressed much the same as Kylo-- though she’d painted her face and head with long, ochre lines-- lowered her weapon in kind. She didn’t deactivate the blade, but Kylo didn’t fault her for that. It was the only light they had.

“Good girl,” she said to Rey, ignoring how the woman glared and returning her attention to Ren. “Still getting your way, I see. At least one thing hasn’t changed.”

Kylo stared at the woman, drinking in the hard cut of her cheeks and smooth, painted crown of her head. How long had it been since he’d seen her?

“Lotti,” he whispered, not trusting his voice. “I didn’t think--” He peered into the darkness behind her, hoping to see more illuminated faces. “Where are the others?”

She gave a sharp whistle, and within moments Kylo caught movement over the roofs of the huts. One body worked down, then a second, third, fourth. They fanned out behind Lotti, their faces cast in yellow light, and Kylo could’ve wept. His Knights-- his _sisters_ , as he’d often thought of them-- all here but one, who must’ve still been wandering the forest.

“What are you--”

“Rey!” Poe’s voice cut him off, sharp and frantic. “Kylo!”

 _Kriff_. The blaster shot. Dameron must’ve heard it from the bunker.

The Commander came sprinting around the corner, Finn and several others at his heels. One of them carried a floodlight, but the rest were armed. They skidded to a halt, leveling their blasters when they caught sight of Lotti’s lightsaber. Behind her the other women drew their own weapons, raising them high. Kylo felt himself blanch; they’d kill each other, all of them, without a second thought, and he couldn’t let them. Not now. The thought of any of them-- the women, Finn, even _Dameron_ …

“Wait!” he yelled, dashing between the two groups. “Just wait.”

Behind him he heard the whir of sabers turning down, and to his front Finn and several of the young soldiers faltered. Poe, however, kept his blaster trained on something just over Kylo’s shoulder. He swallowed, not wanting to imagine whose brow the shot would smack.

“Ren,” Poe hissed. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to move. Now.”

“Commander, you don’t understand.” Kylo licked his lips. His tongue scraped dry. “They won’t hurt you.”

“Like hell! Do you see those--”

But Poe broke off, his eyes tracking between the gleaming sabers, then the matching black tunics and heavy boots the women wore. He looked to Kylo again, taking him in against their backdrop, and the corner of his mouth turned down.

“You son of a bitch,” he spat. “These are the Knights, aren’t they?” Kylo’s hesitation only spurred the man on. He bared his teeth and took a step forward, his blaster at the ready. “Answer me!”

Kylo schooled a flinch, but only just. “Yes.”

Poe barked a hard, humorless laugh. “No contact, huh? What was it you said? ‘Not a word’?”

“I haven’t--”

“What, then? They just happen to show up and clear the base for you?” The other man shook his head, eyes strange and hateful in the yellow light. “How stupid do you think I am?”

“Poe,” Rey said, finally breaking her silence. Her voice was thin and tremulous. “Put it down, please.”

“Stay out of this,” he barked at her, not taking his eyes off Kylo. “You’re a liar, Ren.”

“I didn’t--”

“Then explain this.” 

He swept his blaster across the line of bodies behind Ren. He felt a ripple in the energy behind him, but none of the women moved. He’d have to thank them later. Provided, of course, that Dameron didn’t execute them all first.

Raising his empty hands to his shoulders, Kylo stepped closer to Dameron. The other man stiffened, but held his ground, even as Ren’s chest brushed the barrel of his blaster. 

“Commander,” Kylo whispered, meeting the other man’s hard eyes. He bit his lip, then amended: “Poe. I swear--” slowly, letting Dameron track the movement, Ren laid a hand over his heart. “--on my life that I didn’t bring them here.”

The hard line of Dameron’s mouth broke, thrown off by the use of his name. He recovered quickly, but some of his fire banked. He looked from the women, to Ren, then Rey, and the nose of his blaster flagged.

“On your life, huh?” He tongued the cutting edge of one sharp tooth. “You better hope these ladies have a good explanation then, because I’m holding you to that.” Holstering his gun, Dameron pointed to the hut behind the women. "Inside. Ren, Rey, the Knights-- all of you. You've got an hour to tell me what's going on. And just so we're clear--"

Poe took Kylo's shoulder, fixing him with a hard stare before continuing.

"If their story doesn't check out-- in any way at all-- I'll shoot you myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll pry the Knights-of-Ren-as-OCs trope (and yellow lightsabers) from my cold, dead hands.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion, of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dying to get the Knights on stage since I started this fic, and had such a great time writing this chapter. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did! Thanks for following the story this long :)

It took several long minutes of persuasion for the Knights to comply with Poe's request. 

None of them moved at first, or holstered their sabers. They kept the blades low, the long noses singeing grass, but refused to deactivate them. The mix of colors cast the group in an odd light, Lotti’s yellow bleeding back into the other women’s oranges and bruised magentas. It reminded Kylo of a brush fire, or some dark, burning star. Even at rest the Knights looked lethal, and he didn’t envy Dameron the looks they were giving him.

To his credit, the Commander held his ground. Finn corralled the other soldiers and pulled them off to the side, where he and Rey now whispered apprehensively, but Dameron stood firm. He didn’t draw his blaster again, but he widened his stance and made fists at his sides, looking pointedly between the women and the hut. Current tensions aside, Kylo had to give the man credit. He couldn’t remember the last time someone set themselves unarmed against the Knights.

Not waiting for the Knights to back down on their own-- something Ren knew was unlikely-- Kylo turned his back on Dameron to focus on the group. He honed in on Lotti, who seemed to have taken up the mantle of leader in his absence.

“You won’t be alone with him,” he assured. He laid a hand over hers on the saber’s hilt, putting the barest pressure on the finger over its activator. “I’ll be with you.”

Lotti’s painted mouth turned down. She respectfully kept silent, but Kylo could guess what she was thinking. They’d been without him for nearly a year now; what more harm could another hour do? He swallowed the string of explanations that threatened to spill out. This wasn’t the time, and besides: what good would it do? His disappearance had hurt them. He could see it in the harsh line of Lotti’s mouth, and in the faces of the others behind her, all who’d abandoned their stalemate with Dameron to drink him in. Four sets of eyes swarmed him, their expressions at once relieved and furious. Close as he was, he could read the throb of their energy clearly. They wanted to hold him, touch his arms and hair, and to hit him just as keenly.

Ren couldn’t blame them. He was their leader, and beyond that, their friend. They’d kept each other on their feet through many hard, miserable years; if he’d hurt without them, he couldn’t imagine what they’d felt. What was it Lotti had said? _Back from the dead_. Who knew what Hux had told them, or what they’d come to believe in his absence.

Kylo chewed his lip, wishing desperately that he was alone with them. He could feel the burn of Dameron’s eyes on his nape, and the hiss of Rey and Finn’s hushed voices grated like the grind of steel. If it were just him and the Knights-- but he shook himself. Regardless of who was watching, he couldn’t side step this. They’d been wronged, and Ren couldn’t ask for their trust again without addressing that. Swallowing his pride, and steeling himself against what would surely be a hot-burning humiliation, he released Lotti’s wrist and dropped to his knees. He lowered his gaze to focus on the buzz of her saber, considering his next words carefully.

“I can’t imagine what you think of me,” he said finally. “If I’d--” 

His fingers knotted in the grass, tearing blades out at the root. What had he meant to say: if he’d known he wouldn’t return, if he’d ended up somewhere else? Hypothetical, and why should they believe it? That they might not trust him implicitly had never concerned him before, but the fear was nagging now. 

“I didn't want to hurt you,” he redirected, “but I didn't have much choice. Calling would've put you in danger.”

“I can't recall that mattering before.”

Lotti’s voice was soft, but Kylo winced all the same. Of the Knights, she'd always been the most direct. No doubt that's why she'd been chosen to act in his stead.

“I'd like to explain, if you'll let me. But for now, I need you to speak with Commander Dameron.”

“ _Poe_ Dameron?” The woman huffed a laugh. “I thought he looked familiar.”

Kylo heard the other man shift behind him, but ignored it. Gathering himself, he looked up at Lotti from where he knelt. The woman was gazing down at him, head cocked curiously. Her saber was still engaged, but the heat in her eyes had banked, replaced with something softer.

“I need all of you to trust me.” He peered around Lotti to address the group at large. “I don't have a right to ask, but--”

What remained of Lotti's resolve broke. Cursing under her breath, she powered down her saber and slipped it under her belt. Kylo watched, a little stunned, then rocked back onto his heels as she fisted his collar.

“You're an idiot,” she muttered, dragging him to his feet.

He didn't resist, letting the woman pull him against her chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair to hold him in place. The tension mounting in Kylo's shoulders snapped and he sagged against her, working his arms around her waist. She sighed at the surrender and squeezed tighter, her grip on his hair teetering on the edge of pain. Ren couldn't bring himself to mind. Lotti was warm, smelled of smoke and sweetgrass. She was thinner than he remembered, but he supposed the year hadn't been kind. There was a tremble in her arms, the threat of something tender, but she squashed it by redoubling her grip. She did, however, let herself bury her face in his shoulder for a minute.

“You don’t have to ask for that,” she said, releasing him to back away.

The others didn’t give him time to respond. Spurred by Lotti, they each powered down their weapons and shoved by her, falling against him in turns. The Twi’lek sisters, Suu and Nyra, were first. They swarmed him together, arms tangling around his back, tripping over each other’s words to greet him. _Didn’t think-- when we heard-- so good to see-- weren’t sure we’d ever_... Kylo didn’t interrupt. They’d always been more emotional than Lotti, and he knew it was better to let them get it out now. The pair spent a few more seconds talking over one another, their chatter broken in places by cracks in their voices, before they were replaced by the next Knight. Malka, a small but sturdy Togruta girl, strong-armed them aside. She didn't linger-- of them all, she'd always been the most reserved--, stepping aside quickly to clear a path for the final Knight: Anat. She was a gangly human, as tall as himself and impossibly thin. She took her turn, and pressed her mouth to his ear to to whisper.

“We knew he was lying,” she said.

“Who?” Kylo asked, pulling back to face her. “Hux?”

Before she could answer, Dameron cleared his throat. Kylo looked over his shoulder at the other man, and was surprised to find he’d softened. His hands were open at his side, and while he still looked suspiciously between the women, he wasn’t openly snarling. 

“Hate to interrupt the reunion,” Poe drawled, with less condescension than Ren expected. “But if you don’t mind.”

He gestured to the hut again, then headed for it himself. He detoured by the huddle of soldiers, plucking Rey free and guiding her along. As the two passed, Rey met Kylo’s eyes; she jerked her head towards the hut, urging him to hurry the Knights along.

“Just so you know,” Dameron said, ushering Rey through the door, “your hour started already. Finn--” Poe motioned to the perimeter of the hut. “Watch the door. If Ren can talk his ladies into coming, that is.”

Kylo grimaced. The Knights of Ren were many things; his _ladies_ , they were not. In the present circumstances, however, distinctions were pointless. What mattered now was what Dameron thought, and they had very little time to shape his perception. Ren looked to each of the women in turn, judging their willingness. None of them looked overly fond of the idea of following the Commander; Anat was glaring at him still, her sharp eyes on the blaster at his hip. Still, their expressions softened when they met Kylo’s eyes. After only a minute more of deliberation they released a collective sigh.

“Fine,” Lotti grumbled. “Let’s get this over.”

 

 

Dameron waited until the group was settled in the hut before addressing them again. 

“Let’s start with something easy,” he said. “Is this everybody?”

He gestured to the line of women pressed thigh-to-thigh on the cot. It wasn’t small, but their combined bulk dwarfed it; had it not been made of stone, Kylo was sure he’d be able to see it sag beneath them.

Without thinking, Ren answered the question himself. He muttered _no_ , wondering how long the other Knight would be now. Hadn’t she heard the commotion at camp, or felt the disturbance in her sisters’ energy? Hadn’t she-- and this, perhaps, was selfish-- recognized his presence?

A shadow crossed Lotti’s eyes, and she quickly corrected him.

“Yes,” she amended. “We’re all here.”

There was a long, heavy pause. Kylo didn’t have to look at Dameron to guess his expression.

“Good start,” the other man sneered, his voice tight and mistrustful. “One of you want to rethink your answer?”

The Commander spoke to them both, but his gaze, when Kylo dared to look, was fixed on Lotti. Ren matched it, confusion knitting his brow, but Lotti didn’t balk or waver. None of the women beside her stirred, but the stony expressions they’d adopted were cracking at the edges. Their mouths turned down, bitter and doleful, and the same shadow that darkened Lotti’s eyes darkened theirs. There was a sadness here, deep and fresh enough still to sting. The Knights pressed tighter together to ward against it, and Kylo felt the floor beneath him begin to crumble.

“Where’s Kish?”

His voice was soft, but the dread in it grated his ears. She should’ve, _would’ve_ been here by now if she could. Kish could sense a spike in her fellow Knights’ energy across long, winding miles. Something wasn’t right.

“Where’s Kish?” he repeated, eyes darting between the Knights. Malka shifted, and his attention snagged. “Malka?”

The woman-- girl, really. She was years younger than the others, and looked childish squashed between them-- fidgeted with a leather cord around her neck, her wide eyes over-wet. Kylo’s tongue soured. He didn’t know if he wanted her to answer.

“We tried,” she whispered, voice tremulous. “We did, but--”

Malka trailed off, gnawing her lip. She snapped the cord around her neck and tugged it free from her tunic. Something glittered on the end of it, caught in the floodlight streaming through the window; the Knight palmed it before Ren could get a better look. Giving the token a final squeeze, the tossed it to Kylo across the hut. He caught it by the cord, letting the trinket dangle in the light: a crystal, muddied and purple and scuffed in places, as though it’d been wrestled from something snug.

Rey pushed off the wall, drawing close for a better look. “Is that kyber?”

Kylo nodded, not trusting his voice. On his other side, Poe shifted as well. The other man didn’t press against his side as Rey did, but Ren could feel him hovering just over his shoulder.

“From her saber,” Dameron guessed, filling the silence that Kylo had been content to stretch out. “The missing Knight’s. It was--” Kylo could almost hear the Commander’s mind working. “It was broken?”

“Destroyed,” Malka corrected. “Before it was buried with her.”

An old trick, Ren thought. A safety measure against grave robbing, held over from years more thickly populated with Sith seeking trophies. Kylo wasn’t sure where they’d buried Kish, but wherever it was, it was unlikely she'd be disturbed. Few had any knowledge of the Knights, and those that did were unlikely to risk defiling their graves. They’d sown enough terror to ensure that.

Kylo closed his eyes, imagining Kish’s body at the bottom of a deep, filthy hole. Spouseless, childless, now weaponless, bent fetal and swallowed up by dirt. Ren had never imagined much of a future, for himself or for any of the Knights. Still, he’d hoped it wouldn’t be this. Kish had been a good soldier and an unspeakably loyal friend, and how had he repaid her? Had she died thinking he’d abandoned her?

Ren clenched his fist hard enough for his nails break skin. He felt sick.

“What happened?”

The Knights were silent a while, looking between Ren and Dameron. They were thinking of his words-- _you’ve got an hour_ \--, doubting that time would allow the tangent. And how could it? Kish was an accomplished fighter; Ren couldn’t guess what terror had cut her down, or how the Knights could retell it quickly enough for Poe’s liking. 

Kylo gently pulled free from Rey, whose hand had worked his open, preventing him from deepening the gouges in his palm. He thanked her, wiped the blood on his tunic, then turned to Poe. The other man’s eyes followed the crystal, which still hung from Kylo’s fist. The Commander's brow was scrunched; news of a death seemed to have cooled his anger, and Ren felt a pulse of sympathy roll from him. Not for the Knights, but, to Kylo’s surprise, for himself.

“Commander?”

“Hmm?” Poe looked up finally, and was bewildered to have the room’s full attention. “Oh. Ah, yea. Go ahead.” Kylo’s brow quirked, but Dameron persisted. “I mean it. Just--” He looked to Lotti, who he’d also identified as the Knight’s de facto leader. “Do me a favor and work the rest of it in. Not to be insensitive, but I don’t want to be out here all night.”

The Knights didn’t bother to school their shock. Particularly Lotti, who was staring at Dameron now with wide eyes. She shook herself after a moment, then cleared her throat, thinking of where to begin. Rey used the break to tug at Kylo's sleeve. When she had his attention, she pointed to the crystal and tentatively mouthed _can I_? 

Ren’s fist tightened around the leather. The crystal was a relic now, a testament to the life of its master. Kylo would never permit it to power another saber; when he had time, he'd inlay it with Kish’s name and honorifics, nest it somewhere worthy of the Knight's memory. But as long as he’d known her, Rey had been careful with precious things, gentle to the point of piety. Besides, Kylo couldn’t fault her curiosity. Kyber was an enchanting material, and the only fragment she had access to was still lodged in Skywalker’s broken saber. The draw of something so indelibly tied to the Force was natural, and Kylo didn’t want to quash her spirit. 

“Be careful,” he warned, passing the crystal to her.

Rey nodded, eyes wide, and took the leather just below his hand. If she noticed how the Knights watched her, or how a few of them whispered over the exchange, she didn’t acknowledge it.

“Your disappearance wasn’t immediately obvious,” Lotti began, tearing her eyes from Rey. Her brow was quirked when she turned to Kylo; he knew she’d want to discuss this later, but for now she respected Dameron’s wish and moved quickly. “Hux hid his hand well, which wasn’t hard I suppose. We were away on the last mission you assigned for months after you’d gone. We thought it was odd, yes-- no matter when we made contact with the flagship, the General always had an excuse for your absence. Still, you were the Supreme Leader; that you’d be busy wasn’t unbelievable.”

Lotti paused, shifting on the cot. She sat a little straighter, back rigid against the stone.

“When we completed our mission, Hux’s tracks became more difficult for him to cover. After landing we requested an audience with you, which he summarily denied. You were tied up in meetings, he said, but would happily take a written report.” The woman snorted. “Written report; can you imagine?”

Ren could. It was so like the General, a request so transparent that he wasn’t surprised that it tipped his Knights off. Kylo could hardly be moved to write reports of his own, a long-standing point of contention between himself and Armitage; why would he ask his Knights for one?

“I’m sure he regretted that,” Ren muttered.

“He certainly realized the mistake,” Lotti continued. “The man might have the Force sensitivity of a plum, but he’s no fool. He doubled back, said the report was more for his sake than yours: something about finances and accounting for our ships. Still, the damage was done.”

“Did you write it?”

“Eventually, but only after having our request for an audience denied several more times. We were--” Lotti paused to lick her ochre stained lips. “--suspicious by then, to say the least. That Hux knew little of our relationship was obvious. If he’d said you left on a mission of your own, perhaps, his story would’ve been more believable. But refusing to see us...”

Kylo hummed. Not for the first time, Hux’s blatant disinterest in anything related to the Force had worked against him. More than once the General had been offered the opportunity to meet the Knights, or to at least greet them with Ren after a mission. The man always refused, citing his schedule or, more often, his distaste for the Knights as a concept. Hux was a stubborn, secular man, and plainly thought them all lunatics. Had Hux accompanied Ren even once, he would’ve seen how close they were. It wouldn’t have saved him from the eventuality, but it might’ve given him a few more weeks.

 _Tied up in meetings_ , Kylo thought with a sneer. It was a pedestrian excuse, and almost disappointing.

“Ironically,” Lotti began again, “it was the report that eventually gave him away. A few days after we turned it in, he gave us your response. What he said was yours, at least. It was clear Hux had written it. The wording, the tone--” She broke off, smirking a little. “He even tried to forge your signature, but he failed as miserably at that as the rest. It was a child’s last ditch, and when we confronted him about it, his story finally changed.”

“To what?” Poe interrupted.

Kylo glanced over at the man to find him leaned against the wall, eyes intent upon Lotti as she spoke. Cut off as they’d been in the far, filthy reaches of the galaxy, Poe and the other officers had been starving for intel this intimate. The man was drinking it in, cataloguing the details to report back later himself.

“He admitted that Kylo was gone,” Anat chimed in, leaning forward to address Poe directly. “Said he’d gone to finish the Resistance off himself, but hadn’t wanted the information to go public.”

“The General claimed,” Lotti picked up, returning to Ren, “that you contacted him daily to give orders, even dictated the response to our report to him. Which, he said, accounted for the odd tone. He himself had penned it, after all, so the style was bound to be different. When we pressed for details, however-- where you’d been, if you’d made any progress, when you'd return-- he shut down. He refused to give anything up, citing your orders.”

“So, what?” Poe pushed off the wall, stepping further into the room. “Did you expose him?”

“We left him alone, actually. Kylo being gone was something we’d suspected, and having it confirmed redoubled our focus. We spent most of our time coaxing information from the crew, trying to pin down when he’d last been seen. Someone must’ve gone to the General, however, because after that he moved quickly. Barely two weeks after we confronted him, he called an assembly and announced-- in great, grizzly detail-- that you’d fallen in battle.” Lotti nodded to Rey, who’d been watching the woman raptly. “By this one’s hand, no less.”

Rey’s breath hitched, but Kylo wasn’t surprised. He’d expected Hux to come up with some nasty explanation. What choice did the man have, after all? He couldn’t keep the secret indefinitely.

“I’m guessing he also used the opportunity to name my successor."

Malka snorted. “Himself, of course. Said you made the choice before you left, just in case. Signed a document and everything, which you had notarized by some of Hux’s high ranking friends.”

Kylo couldn’t resist a laugh. Notarization was a nice touch. “How generous of me, and fortuitous for the General. Or is it Supreme Leader now?”

“Grand Marshal, actually,” Lotti sneered. “Masturbation at its finest, but no one could argue against him. Your final wishes were clear.”

Of course they were. Armitage was nothing if not thorough.

“What about you?” he asked, looking between the Knights.

“We weren’t impressed, but with no way of proving Hux a liar, there was little we could do. Most of us wanted to leave and start the search for you.” Lotti paused, crossing over her arms over her chest, and Kylo felt her energy go cold. “Kish had other plans. She was convinced Hux had something to do with your disappearance, and refused to leave before meeting him again.”

The woman stood suddenly, pacing a few steps, then back again. Kylo watched, taking in the tightness of her shoulders and the hard set of her mouth, and felt the blood run out of his fingers.

“He didn’t… Hux, he couldn’t have--”

Lotti scoffed. “No. It wasn’t Hux.” She sat again, bracing her elbows on her knees. She rested her chin on her knuckles before continuing. “We followed her to Snoke’s old state room, where he’d clearly been set up for some time. Whatever hope we had of talking her down died when she saw how settled he was.”

Kylo could imagine it: Kish kicking in the doors of the state room, hate as red as its walls and Armitage’s slick hair.

“She accused him of having befriended you for personal gain. Of somehow orchestrating your disappearance. Hux was furious, but didn’t seem to see it any differently than a fight with you. They yelled at each other a while: Hux ignoring his guards and Kish shaking us off when we tried to drag her away.” Lotti sighed. “I don’t know what she was thinking, reaching for her saber. Maybe she only meant to intimidate him, but his guard didn’t wait to find out. They opened fire, and we were all so focused on--”

She skittered to a stop, cursing under her breath, and Kylo’s chest ached. She blamed herself; that much was obvious. He wanted to go to her, take her face in his hands, assure her-- but there was nothing he could say. Nothing would change how she felt, and were their positions reversed he knew he’d be just as inconsolable.

“Hux was as shocked as we were,” Malka picked up, sparing Lotti. “He threatened to have his men executed if they made another move, even tried to stop the bleeding himself, but the shots were clean. She was probably dead before she hit the floor.”

Kylo let out a shaky breath, made a fist with a hand he didn’t realize was trembling until Rey reached out to steady it. He focused on the cool press of her fingers, let her work them between his own to relax them. He gave her hand a grateful squeeze before addressing the Knights again.

“I doubt you were welcome on the ship much longer.”

Malka shook her head. “He let us take Kish’s body, but nothing else. His guard escorted us to the docks and watched to make sure we flew out. We came here immediately, buried her near the Hills of the Ancients.”

Carefully, Dameron cleared his throat. “And, ah, the camp?”

“We cleared it after we’d mourned,” Anat cut in. “This base is ours, and Hux had no business here. We contacted the flagship and told him as much before smashing the communicators.”

“He hasn’t tried reclaiming it?”

“Why should he? There’s nothing for him here.”

That much was true. As far as Hux was concerned, Voss was a vanity project, a waste of Order funds for Kylo’s benefit. The man was likely relieved to be rid of it, even if it did cost him a few Troopers. Given the circumstances of Kish’s death, perhaps he considered it an even trade.

“And you haven’t contacted him since?”

The women all turned to glare at Poe, and the man threw up his hands.

“I have to ask,” he said quickly. “Humor me.”

“No,” Lotti said after a while. “We haven’t spoken with him, and I can’t imagine we ever will. We didn’t part as friends.”

“Yea,” Poe muttered, more to himself than her. He scrubbed his hands over his face, then again: “Yea.” The man looked to Kylo, then each Knight before continuing. “Alright. The way I see it, we’ve got two options. You’ve had a good look at most of my men; I think we all know I can’t keep the five of you here.”

Kylo didn’t miss that Poe said _five_. Whatever Dameron thought, it was clear he no longer considered Ren having collaborated with the women likely. Small favors.

“From the looks of base,” Dameron continued, “it’s clear you’re no longer Order affiliated. If you want to leave, I won’t risk sacrificing men to detain you.”

The Knights were silent awhile, looking between each other as they deliberated.

“Or?”

Poe looked stunned that Lotti hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to leave, but recovered quickly.

“Or you let me get those communicators fixed and have a word with my boss. I can’t make any promises upfront; I don’t have final say, but we’re not unreasonable. We can be pretty forgiving if you’ve got something to offer. If you’re willing, we could probably help each other out.”

As it stood, Dameron had nothing to offer. The group had done well without Poe’s intervention so far, and should they chose to leave would continue to do so. The Commander didn’t have much to give in return for any intel they might provide, and by the look on the Knight’s faces, they knew it. Still, Kylo had to give the man credit for sticking to his guns.

“This boss you have to talk to,” Lotti said. “What if they say no?”

Dameron didn’t seem to have considered that. He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I said you’d walk. If she doesn’t want to deal, that’s still on the table.”

Lotti tongued the sharp edge of one tooth. She looked to each of the Knights, then to Kylo, before returning her attention to Poe.

“We’d like to stay with Kylo, if we can. Anything you want on the Order in return is no matter. We have no love for it.”

Dameron barked a laugh before he could school himself. 

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “Alright. Ok.” He clapped once, blew out a long, slow breath. “Let me check on the communicators. I’ll keep you all updated. Don’t go anywhere in the meantime. Rey, Solo: think you can keep our guests busy?”

Rey agreed, but it took Kylo several seconds to recognized Dameron was also addressing him.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Help Rey watch the Knights,” Poe clarified, already halfway through the door. “Should be easy. You’ve got, what, a year of catching up to do?”

Kylo shook his head. “Not that. What did you _call_ me?”

Poe froze, looking caught out. He hovered in the door, eyes darting to Rey over Ren’s shoulder. Whatever the woman mouthed or signed, it didn’t seem to help, because Dameron rolled his eyes before refocusing.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Your name, probably. That a problem?”

Kylo opened his mouth, thought a moment, then shut it and shook his head.

“Good,” the other man said, giving a single, curt nod. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Without another word, Poe slipped through the door and shut it behind him. He lingered around the hut for a minute, touching base with Finn and the soldiers huddled there. Once he’d finished, he jogged off across the courtyard towards the barracks and the waiting control room.

Kylo watched him through the window until he disappeared into the building, finally feeling the ground begin to solidify under his boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poe Dameron unintentionally but affectionately calling Kylo "Solo" is one of the few lights in this world.
> 
> I've got more plans for the Knights, especially where Rey is concerned, so tune in next week!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Compromise and exploration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty interaction heavy. Everyone's had a hard few days, and I thought it'd be nice to focus on relationships: Kylo and the Knights, as well as Kylo, Rey, and Finn. The action will be picking up again starting next week, so enjoy the easy pace while it lasts.
> 
> Seriously, hope y'all enjoy it. I had a great time writing this chapter. The interactions between these guys are super fun to play with, and I hope I've been doing them justice. As always, let me know what you think. I love hearing your opinions.

As it went, the communicators were more severely damaged than anyone initially realized. Even after tinkering with them all day, it was still well after midnight before Dameron commed to say he'd gotten them operational, and hours later still when he returned with news. 

Kylo didn't mind the wait. After the Commander left, he settled in front of the Knights and launched into a line of questioning of his own. The women were far more receptive to that. Where Lotti had taken the lead before, the others stepped in, clambering over one another to speak. They chittered happily, relaying all they could of the last year: the outcome of their final mission-- a scouting trip for a potential new Order base--, as well as what they’d seen from their time on the flagship. They crew’s morale, the Order’s recent successes and failures, and the arc of Hux’s popularity. 

That last interested Ren most. Armitage was a capable man and inspiration for many, but the position he'd put himself in was precarious. The Knight's interrogations of the crew revealed that Hux's popularity had been in flux even before he announced Ren's demise. That came as no surprise. Hux was iron-fisted and stubborn, often alienating fellow officers with his draconian methods. Barring that, his climb to the top had been ruthless. He'd spared few in his bid for General-- forged many relationships merely to exploit them later--, a fact that’d made him many powerful enemies. Enemies that were looking to him more enviously than ever, and who had very little left in their way.

That Hux’s life had been threatened several times already was one of the Order’s best kept secrets. In his service of the Supreme Leader, he'd been the target of no less than five petty poisonings and botched shootings, all ordered by those he'd beaten in the bid for his position. Snoke kept the incidents quiet, preferring to dispose of the conspirators without fanfare. To do otherwise, he'd said, would make them martyrs in the eyes of their sympathizers. Kylo himself had often been charged with the eliminations, though it'd done little to endear him to the other man; quite the opposite. Hux often avoided him for weeks afterwards, straining their already tenuous co-commandership.

Assassination attempts aside, however, Armitage Hux had lived in relative safety. The direct protection of the Supreme Leader, bolstered by his popularity among the lower ranks, meant he’d been able to act as he pleased without fear of repercussion. Bitter though his rivals might've been, they were ultimately powerless. Under the watchful eyes of Snoke and Ren, Hux had flourished. Now the man stood alone, and air-tight though his claim to leadership seemed, Kylo didn’t doubt that others would soon be vying for it. 

If Hux didn’t exercise the utmost diplomacy, factions were likely to start forming. Supporters of this or that rivaling officer would branch off, begin pooling weapons and resources. Three changes of leadership might not have leveled the Order, but it certainly laid the foundation for destabilization. If Kylo could seize power, and later so could Hux, what was to stop others from aspiring? With the current turnover rate, control of the Order was shaping up to be any man’s game. If one of them gained enough traction, who knew how bloody a coupe would ensue.

As the moon rose and waned through the window, Ren and the Knights continued their talk. The conversation flowed from one topic to the next, skipping between the Knight’s recount of the year and Kylo’s. He glossed over a few of the initial bumps, focusing instead on more recent history. The Knights listened raptly to his recount of the attack on Crul, the various planets he’d visited during recruitment missions, and highlights from his training with Rey. If the women hadn’t been piqued before, the stories of Rey did the trick. As Kylo spoke, their eyes darted to her, drinking in the energy pulsing from her like sound. They’d likely suspected her to be Force sensitive before-- how couldn’t they? Power swathed her--, but confirmation of the fact drew them to her like moths to buzzing light. 

To her credit, Rey bore the attention well. The Knights, Kylo knew, were a formidable group. Resting as they were, their strength still swirled around them, easily read by one as empathetic as Rey. Still, she didn’t shy from them. She sat straight backed at Ren’s side, twirling the strung kyber between her fingers, and did her best to draw her own energy back in. The group’s appearance had cracked her concentration, and the restraint she’d shown with it recently flagged. During Poe’s initial interview of the women, Ren could feel Rey’s nerves bouncing between the walls. 

“You’re his student?” Malka asked, dark eyes narrowed.

Kylo felt Rey tick at the word _student_. She was a proud woman, not fond of being thought of as subordinate, and rightfully so. She’d bested him more than once, both in Force training and plain combat. She was an adept learner, and undeniably his equal.

“I’m his partner,” Rey corrected. She met Malka’s eyes over her knees, her gaze no less intimidating for having to look up. “Seeing as he skipped all the times I knocked him on his back, though, I understand the confusion.”

There was a beat of silence in which each Knight fixed her with a long, appraising stare. Rey tensed, her shoulders drawing tight against Kylo’s as though anticipating a blow. None of the women moved, however, or even seemed offended. If anything, they relaxed. They sank more comfortably against one another, and even Malka’s wary expression softened.

“He tends to do that,” she said, lips curling in a faint smile. “But what man doesn’t?”

Rey’s jaw slacked, but she recovered quickly, snapping it closed with a shake of her head. From the corner of the cot, the Twi’lek sisters laughed, the sound glassy and light in spite of their bulk.

“You can agree,” Suu teased, chin resting on her sister’s shoulder. “You won’t offend him.”

“And even if you did,” Nyra said, “something tells me he’d forgive you.” 

Her eyes found the meeting of Kylo and Rey’s shoulders. She tracked the contact down Rey’s arm to her hand, which rested thoughtlessly on Ren’s knee. Nyra watched the woman’s fingers trace circles there for a moment, then met Kylo’s eyes. She didn’t say anything, but her brow quirked, and Ren felt a treacherous heat bloom at the base of his neck.

“Enough,” Lotti said, but there was no bite to it. “You can embarrass him later.” 

Lotti scooted to the edge of the cot, resting her elbows on her knees, and re-centered the conversation. She walked them back, having fixated on something Ren said long minutes before, and began firing questions about the Resistance’s training methods. Having been privy to comparatively few training sessions, however, Kylo quickly deferred to Rey. The woman answered stiltedly at first, not yet comfortable with the group, but warmed as the night wore on. The Knights were a receptive audience, and their captivation helped endear them. By the time Poe returned, exhausted and backlit by the pink creep of dawn, Rey was chatting easily with them about weapons maintenance.

The man lingered in the door, stunned by the scene. Kylo didn't blame him. Huddled as they were in the low light, they must've looked like children caught out of bed. 

“How did it go?” Rey prompted.

Poe breathed out, slow and measured.

“Better than it could’ve, given how it started.” The man scrubbed hard under his eyes, the skin there dark and greased. “The council thought the timing was too suspicious. Initially, they wanted all of you detained.”

“What for?” Kylo asked. “They didn't--”

But he broke off, the words ringing false even before they came. The Knights might not have done anything today, or to this batch of Resistance members specifically, but they were war criminals still. Under Snoke’s direction, each of the women had furthered the Order’s interests. Violently, mercilessly. Their hands were slick with blood, just as Kylo’s had been. 

“Exactly,” Poe muttered, guessing Ren's thought. “Your girls don’t have clean records. Can’t argue with that.”

“Are we being detained, then?” Lotti asked, her voice soft but calculating.

She didn't stand, but her fingers crept to the hilt of her saber. Poe watched, tired eyes tracking her thumb as it ghosted over the activator. Kylo half expected him to reach for his own weapon. Lotti might not have pulled hers yet, but the threat was undeniable. She wouldn't allow herself or the others to be taken prisoner, and Ren couldn't fault her. Not knowing what awaited them if she did.

The face of the council's interrogator floated unbidden into his thoughts, and Kylo's gut rolled. He didn't hate the man for following orders, but he also couldn’t see him without tasting bile. The thought of him hunched over the women, his face pressed close as they struggled to float above the threshold of whatever drug he slipped them-- 

Kylo shuddered, and at the same time Poe raised his hands, palms flat and deferential. 

“No one’s being detained,” Dameron soothed. He waited for Lotti’s hand leave the saber hilt before continuing. “Like I said, the conversation got better.”

“You talked them down?” Rey asked, a little incredulous.

“I didn’t do anything. Couldn’t get a word in once they heard I blew my shot at disarming the Knights. Never mind how they thought I’d take _those_ without losing an arm.” He nodded to the saber at Lotti’s hip. “It was General Organa who calmed them down. She reminded them that the Resistance was just getting on its feet again; said now wasn’t a good time to alienate potential allies.”

“Leia said that?”

Anat’s voice came from the the back curve of the hut, snagging Dameron’s attention. The woman was standing, drawn to her full, terrible height, tapping out a strange rhythm with the heel of her boot. 

“Yea,” he confirmed. “You know her?”

Anat’s eyes glazed, seeing somewhere else: some other time in what felt-- Kylo knew too well-- like another life. Of all the Knights, he and Anat had known each other the longest. They’d been children together, her parents as indelibly tied to the Resistance as Ren’s own. There weren’t many children then; couples either took the utmost caution, or entrusted their children to relatives. Ren and Anat’s parents, for reasons of their own, had done neither. They were base brats, dragged from outpost to far-flung outpost, with few their own age to talk to. For that reason, among others-- chiefly their mutual, budding Force abilities--, the two became friends, close even before they went to study under Skywalker. 

How many nights had they crept from bed, stolen away to test their powers? And how many of those had been cut short by Leia, her hair loose from sleep, come to drag them both back to the soft light of their rooms? They’d been so small, both of their hands fitting easily in one of Leia’s as she led them back to bed. The General had seemed a giant then. Now, of course, Anat would dwarf her.

“I used to,” the Knight said finally. 

Poe tongued the backs of his teeth, but didn’t press for more. “Well, you’ll have time to reacquaint. She’s on her way now.”

The corner of Anat’s mouth twitched down. “Come again?”

“General Organa,” Poe said. “She’s coming to question all of you herself. It was part of her deal with the council. She’d handle the questioning and assess your intel. That way, there’s no need for the interrogator to get involved.”

No need for the women to submit to drugging either, but Dameron glossed over that detail. Kylo didn’t blame him. 

“And after that?” Lotti asked.

“You'll be on probation, if it goes well. I can’t make promises beyond that.” Dameron shifted his weight, looking each of the women in the eyes before continuing. “But look: if you’re honest and your intel is good, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Just ask your boss. He started the same way. Take off was a little rough, but we’re alright now, aren’t we?”

They were, Kylo thought, though had someone suggested as much months ago he would have laughed. Since landing on Belsavis, Dameron had been a symbol of everything Ren detested about the Resistance and his own past. He’d been determined to keep the other man at arms length indefinitely; like many things, that hadn’t gone at all to plan. The two still weren’t close, not like he was with Rey or even Finn. Still, Poe had armed him, deferred to him, stayed his hand and trusted him. None of that seemed remotely possible before.

“Yes,” Kylo answered, eyes lingering on Poe a moment before flicking to the Knights. Apart from Anat they were all huddled still. Their thighs pressed tight, hands worked into their robes or woven through one another’s arms. His chest tightened at the sight. How could he have been away from them for so long? 

“Yes,” he repeated, this time to the Knights. “It’s fine now. Better than, really.”

The women were silent, considering. Lotti especially. Her fingers curled and unfurled rhythmically, ready to take up her saber at a moment’s notice. Across the hut, Dameron sighed.

“I’ll say it again: I can’t keep you here.” His voice was thick, weary. Kylo could feel the burn of _sleep, just a few hours_ roll from him like smoke. What had the council said when they learned he hadn’t taken his shot? Nothing kind, Ren suspected. “And I won’t risk my soldiers’ lives trying. If you want to go, then go. But just know that’s the end of it. If I saw any of you here again--”

The Commander trailed off, abandoning the thought, but Kylo could guess it well enough. The Knights running would be tantamount to an admission of guilt, of having acted in some capacity as spies. It would likely incriminate Kylo as well. Had Dameron thought of that? He didn’t seem to have, but how else would the council think they'd known when and where to strike? Kylo’s gut turned at the thought of being a suspect again, locked away after only having just regained freedom.

Thankfully, Lotti refused. She waved her hand in dismissal, and the tension stretched between her and Dameron broke so viscerally Kylo wondered how it hadn’t smacked against them. 

“We’ll meet her,” she said. “Anat, perhaps, can lead.”

Anat’s frown deepened, the few spots of color on her high cheeks going gray. She looked sickly, and more than that: terrified. Ren sympathized. Leia was a titanic shadow from her past.

“You can work that out later,” Poe said. “For now, get some rest. The General will be here this afternoon. Take a few hours to sleep, then get your story together. It’s not just your asses on the line, alright?”

Without waiting for anyone to respond, Poe threw the door open and stalked back to the barracks, leaving Kylo, Rey, and the Knights alone once more.

 

 

 

It was a testament to how draining the day had been that, once he laid down, Kylo didn’t stir again until Leia’s ship was in the courtyard.

Not long after Poe left, the group broke. The Knights doubled up and headed to separate huts, agreeing that the first to wake would round up the others. It was only when the final pair slipped through the door that Kylo slouched, releasing the ragged breath he felt as though he’d held for hours.

“Ben,” Rey said, her voice gentle. She dragged her hand up his flank and ribs, pressing deft fingers into the meat of his shoulder. “Get up.”

He groaned, but let her drag him to his feet and guide him to the cot. He didn’t resist when she nudged, pushing him back onto the stone. It was hard beneath him, not yet covered in the layers of blankets it needed to be comfortable, but it retained a bit of the Knight’s heat. Exhausted as he was, that would do for the night.

“Where are you sleeping?” he asked, tugging off his heavy tunic. Balmy as it was, the light shirt beneath it would be enough.

“The barracks, probably.” Her eyes lingered on the swath of skin peeking out from the upturned hem of his undershirt. Kylo swallowed and tugged it down. “Will you be alright out here?”

“It’s only a few hours.” He bunched his tunic into a makeshift pillow. “Can you wake me?”

Rey nodded, then leaned in, resting her hands on his thighs. She hovered for a moment, eyes tracking between his; Kylo held his breath. The last time she leaned this close-- but she didn’t kiss him. Instead, she pressed her forehead against his. Like a cat, Kylo thought, then immediately felt foolish.

“It’ll be alright,” she whispered, the words puffing against his cheek. Kylo let his eyes slip closed, focusing on the wisp of it. “Leia will be fair.”

Kylo huffed, felt the heat of his breath break against Rey’s face. _Fair_ worried him. Given the Knight’s long list of offenses, it could mean anything. What he wanted was for the General to be selfish. The Knights had something she needed, and he could only hope that weighted her decision.

“Sleep,” she urged. “You can worry later.”

She brushed her nose against his then pulled back, motioning for him to lay down. She waited for him to obey, watching him nestle into the makeshift pillow, then turned for the door. Once it’d shut behind her, Kylo closed his eyes and let the sound of her retreat coax him to sleep.

The sun was high and full when he next woke. A deep, mechanical whir-- a sound he recognized moments later as the release of a ship’s door-- jolted him from a dream, and he was appalled to find it was well after noon. The long months on spent Belsavis, bereft of either a natural or artificial circadian system, had shattered his pattern. Prior to his time there, the stream of light through the window would’ve woke him much earlier.

Kylo arched his back in a long, deep stretch. The plain between his shoulders knit and ached, and he hissed. Not padding the cot had been a horrible mistake.

“Awake?”

Ren jolted again, thrown by the voice. How long had Rey been there? Judging by her position when he turned-- legs crossed, book open across her lap, back curved against the wall--, an hour at least.

“I might’ve been sooner,” he mumbled, rolling to face her, “if you’d done what I asked.”

Rey shrugged, marking her place. “You were dreaming.”

Kylo decided against asking how she knew that. “When did the General get here?”

“Half an hour ago. Poe just had to round up the Knights before she disembarked. One of the council's stipulations, apparently.”

Petty, but Ren wasn’t surprised. And if it kept the interrogator off base he wouldn’t complain. Humming, he pushed himself onto his elbows.

“Did she say how long it'd take?”

“No, but yours ran nearly two hours before--” Rey paused, tonguing the back of her teeth. “--well, before.”

Delicate. Though truthfully, he'd have believed any time she said. His memory of the event was skewed.

“I’ll take your word.” Kylo dragged a few fingers through his hair, combing out sleepy tangles. “Well, since I’m sure we have the time: would you like to see the forest?”

Rey cocked her head. “I saw it yesterday.”

“That doesn't count.” He shook out his crumpled tunic before slipping it over his shoulders. “The forest is a hotbed of energy; Force users have made pilgrimage across the galaxy for centuries to experience it. Our teams were too noisy for you to properly enjoy it yesterday, and I thought--” Ren shrugged, settling the fabric. “But if you’re no longer interested in Force training--”

“No!” Rey interrupted. “I mean, yes. I’m still interested.” 

Her fingers tightened around the book in her lap, which Kylo recognized now as one of the Ahch-To texts. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. She was, without a doubt, the most engaged student he’d ever partnered with.

“Get your staff, then,” he said, slipping into his boots. His fingers paused over the laces, considering. “Finn too. He’d probably appreciate the break.”

“Really?”

Ren looked up from his knot to find Rey staring. Her eyes were lighted, whether at the prospect of experiencing something in the forest or from being allowed to bring her friend he couldn’t tell. But he supposed it didn’t matter. Either was fine, and he’d meant what he said. Finn had worked tirelessly, and had earned a few hours’ escape.

“Really.”

As though expecting him to change his mind, Rey hopped from her seat and jogged out of the hut. He heard her call something through her comm before she’d even crossed the courtyard, and a fond heat bloomed in his chest. 

 

 

Once Rey returned, Finn in tow, Kylo wasted no time. After making sure she’d informed Poe of their plans-- the forest might’ve been dormant, but it was best to be cautious--, he led the two of them into the line of trees beyond the stone huts. They walked for several long minutes in silence, concentrating on keeping to the footpaths. Worn down over long centuries by both natives and pilgrims alike, they were the only sure way of navigating the forest. Stepping off them, while perhaps not fatal, would certainly get them lost; after that, who knew how long it'd take to find camp again.

Staying their course proved more difficult in some places than others. Now that the forest received fewer visitors, many of the tracks had begun to decay. The oldest paths were still beaten and clear, likely never to fade; some of the newer branches, however, were growing over. Without constant foot traffic to deter them, the creeping grasses and vines returned, obscuring once clear tracks. More than once Kylo halted their progress and doubled back, not trusting the current path to hold. If he were alone, perhaps. Unfamiliar with the forest as Rey and Finn both were, however, he wouldn't run the risk.

After finding the safest path, Kylo fell back, joining Finn and Rey where they lagged. The two had been chatting happily together as they followed, unconcerned with Ren’s choices. They peered between the surrounding trees, pointing at the flowering plants and ropy vines spreading out from them; up at the canopy that, like the day before, seemed to close above them as they moved. 

“How’s it doing that?” Finn asked, sidestepping to let Kylo squeeze between him and Rey. His head was tilted back, face scrunched as he squinted at the rustling leaves. “Does it know?”

“Not exactly,” Kylo said. He took Finn’s shoulder, correcting his drift and tugging him back to the center of the path. “When the Dark Heart was still inhabited, it moved because the spirit there willed it. The forest began as a physical manifestation of the spirit’s anger, and that connection allowed it to be manipulated. These days, it borrows energy from whoever visits.”

“People like you and Rey?”

“And you.”

Finn looked away from the canopy at that. “I'm not Force sensitive.”

Kylo shrugged. “Not in the same way we are, perhaps, but every living thing has some level of ability. You noticed, I'm sure, that the forest is less active today?”

Finn nodded.

“That's because there are fewer of us in it. The Knight's arrival might've kicked the forest into gear, but the energy of everyone passing through yesterday stoked it.”

Finn took a few steps in silence. Kylo could feel him thinking, carefully turning something over like a stone.

“So,” he said slowly. “I could-- _do_ something, maybe. Like Rey can.”

“Possibly. With practice, and once you found your particular talent.” Ren hadn't sensed any immediate sensitivity from the man, but that meant little. Skills often laid dormant for decades, revealed only when a person's need was dire. “There are exercises meant to tease out natural abilities. I could show you sometime, if you'd like.”

Finn's eyes blew wide, mouth momentarily splitting in a wide grin. After catching sight of Rey over Ren's shoulder, however, it ticked down.

“I don't want to distract you. I know you and Rey keep each other busy.”

“It isn't a distraction,” Kylo said. “Not to me, at least. Rey?”

“Me neither,” she said quickly, rounding Kylo to nudge Finn's shoulder. “Come on; it wouldn't hurt to try. You might even like it.”

Finn looked between them, seemingly trying to determine if this were some sort of joke. When neither reneged, a bit of his smile returned.

“Thanks,” he said, bumping his shoulder against Ren as they walked. “I’ll think about it.”

The other man didn’t bring it up again, and neither did Kylo or Rey. They focused instead on exploring the forest. Kylo led the pair like children, halting every few minutes to answer questions. Finn honed in on the nature: asking the names of the grasses and vines, where the water sources were, what wildlife the forest hosted and why they hadn’t seen any yet. Ren answered as best he could, though the planet’s natural history was more Suu’s strong suit than his. He made a promise to connect the two later, provided things went well with the General.

As Kylo expected, Rey was enchanted by the trees. As he fumbled through conversation with Finn, desperately trying to recall lectures he’d half slept through from Suu, the woman paced between the trunks, careful not to disturbed the vines around their roots. Ren stole glances, watching her trail her fingers over the ancient, broken bark. She let her eyes close, reading snippets of the forest’s history from each tree she touched, her brow occasionally scrunching in what looked like a deep, lingering ache. 

When Finn finally lost interest and set to study the plants himself, Kylo went to Rey’s side. Carefully, he laid his hand on the trunk next to hers. The bark was coarse, pulsed faintly with an ancient heat signature, but otherwise was silent. At least to him. Rey, it seemed, had won its affection and was channeling its secrets with ease.

“What do you see?” he asked, letting his hand drop.

The woman tensed, apparently too absorbed to have sensed his approach. Her hand stayed firm on the bark though, and her eyes didn’t open. She licked her lips, the bridge of her nose gathering in concentration.

“Blackness,” she whispered, her voice odd and frail. “Not night, something else. Something alive.” Her hand curled, and her nails caught on the cracked lip of a piece of bark. “It’s warm, slick. Almost like--”

Rey’s mouth turned down, trying to place the sensation. A beat of silence, then Kylo felt it: revulsion rolled off her back like water, and she snatched her hand back. When her eyes opened, there was a strange, panicked light in them that set Ren’s teeth on edge. Before he had time to question her, however, she leaned over and spat.

“What is it?” he asked tersely.

The woman remained bent for a moment, hands on her knees as she stared at the glob of spit. She panted once, twice, then wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered, straightening. “I just thought I--” 

She paused, face shaded with doubt. Kylo felt her blossoming green nudge at the edge of his mind, and opened without hesitation. Rey’s brow knit as she focused on sending the memory of what she’d felt; moments later Kylo’s mouth flooded with a hot, syrupy tang. Thrown by the taste, he gagged and coughed. He covered his mouth, more to catch his spit than to stifle the sound. When the cough subsided, he pulled back to examine the spittle for blood.

Nothing. The liquid was clear, and Kylo sighed in relief. Whatever violence Rey had tapped was still entrapped, caught like a bug behind the bark.

“I admire your curiosity,” Kylo said, wiping his hand on the hem of his tunic. “But I’d advise caution going forward. It’s maker might be dead, but the forest isn’t. I’m sure it has a few tricks left.”

Rey nodded, and had the decency to look sheepish. “I’m sorry. I just heard... I don’t know what, but I could tell it was coming from the tree. I thought if I--”

Whatever she meant to say was cut off but the comm in her pocket. It blasted static for several seconds, then a voice came muddily through. Rey dug the device out and buzzed back.

“Say again? Didn’t catch that.”

“ _Finally_.” Poe’s voice came clearer now, edged with relief. “I’ve been buzzing for half an hour.”

She and Kylo exchanged a look before she answered. “Are you sure? I've had it on all day and this is the first I'm hearing.”

“I’m sure. I tried a couple dozen times, both you and Finn. Just kept getting static, though. Thought maybe you just couldn't hear it through your pockets, but--” The Commander paused, humming. “Must be interference from the trees or something.”

Kylo was inclined to agree, but thought Dameron’s reasoning was likely to differ from his own.

“Yea,” Rey mused. “Must be. What did you need, anyway?”

“Just touching base about the Knights. Leia’s finished with them.”

“What’s the verdict?”

Ren winced at the word, not caring for the implication. Poe answered quickly though, and soothed his nerves.

“Good news. We’ll discuss details when you’re back, but I wanted to let you know they’ve been granted probation.”

Kylo huffed a small laugh, feeling the line of tension between his shoulders snap. Thank the stars, he thought. And thank Leia. He’d never wanted to embrace the woman so keenly.

Beside him, Rey sighed her own relief. “Thanks, Poe. That’s great to hear.”

“Yea, well, you can thank me by hurrying back. It’s getting a little dark to be playing in the woods.”

Was it? Kylo hadn’t noticed, but peering up through the canopy now he could see the sky beginning to bruise. His brow knit at the sight. Surely they hadn’t walked that long. He'd have noticed. Wouldn't he?

“Tell him we’re heading back,” Ren said, returning his attention to Rey. “Make it quick. This isn’t a pleasant place to be after nightfall.”

Rey’s eyes darted to the tree that’d snagged her, then nodded. After a quick sign off, she shoved the comm back in her pocket and called for Finn to join them. The man was still crouched at the opposite edge of the path, studying a flowering vine. He looked loathe to abandon it, but did as he was told.

“Time to go?” he asked, apparently having been too absorbed in his studies to hear the call.

“Past time,” Kylo muttered. “We need to move.”

Finn’s brow quirked. “Everything ok?”

“Fine,” Rey said. “Just getting late, is all.”

She sidled up the other man, linking arms with him. It was a friendly gesture, common enough that Finn took no notice, but Kylo didn’t miss how her grip whitened as she squinted through the trees. The forest intrigued her still, but what she’d experienced knocked her off-kilter. She didn’t seem to trust now how drawn Finn was the plants, and held him firmly in the middle of the path. 

It wasn’t a bad idea, Kylo thought. Even without the threat of the flora’s call, they were quickly losing light. He knew the paths well enough to walk them in darkness, but he didn’t care to lose his friends. Taking Rey’s other side, he linked arms with her as well before jerking his head in the direction of camp.

“Keep hold of each other,” he said, tugging at Rey to start their walk. “And keep up. I can have us back in half an hour if neither of you lag.”

Under normal circumstances, Ren thought, at least one of them would’ve teased, playfully blamed the other for their slow progress earlier in the day. Now, however, in the failing light, neither seemed interested in jokes. Or, for that matter, in prolonging their stay. They both nodded, adjusted their grip, and let Kylo set their pace. 

If either noticed the slow closing of the woods around them, or how the canopy drew tight enough to choke out the last rays of light, they obligingly said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It felt like a waste of a perfectly good setting not to have them mess around in the woods.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know this is going up a little later than usual, but with Passover starting this past weekend I just couldn't swing my usual update. Between hosting relatives and attending Seders, I barely had time to breath. Still, I'm very happy with this chapter, and hope y'all think the extra day of waiting was worth it.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!
> 
> EDIT 4/5: Hey y'all! After coming back to look over this for a refresher as I work on the next chap, I realized that I accidentally posted a slightly older version. I've gone back and fixed the typos, plus added in a few minor things (just expansions of paragraphs that were already there) that were in the final edit that for some reason I didn't copy/paste from. Sorry for the rough draft y'all got first time around! If you want to re-read for the polished experience, please do. It's not overly different, but there were some minor edits. Thanks again for being great, and sticking with the story. I appreciate every single one of you!

When the three of them returned to base, Leia was still lounging with the Knights.

Perhaps lounging wasn’t the word. At least, not for the Knights. General Organa was perfectly at ease, reclining in a large metal chair covered in blankets for padding. Her old hands rested on the arms, and her legs crossed at the knees. She looked, Kylo thought, as she did everywhere: like she belonged. The room bent around her so surely that the old chair might as well have been a throne.

The Knights were less serene. While it was obvious they hadn’t been harmed-- Leia had even asked for chairs to be brought for them, though they refused to sit-- none of the women looked overly comfortable in her presence. They stood stiffly, shoulders pressed tight together, making a wall of their sturdy chests. Their backs weren’t to the wall, but it was a near thing. Even if Leia stood, she’d have to take several steps to reach them. The fact didn’t seem to comfort the Knights, however. Each kept their eyes on the General, tracking her like hounds.

“There you are,” Leia purred, her expression softening as she looked to Ren. “We were starting to think you got lost.”

The shift gummed Kylo’s steps. She hadn’t been glaring at the Knights, but her face was guarded. Not unlike how she’d first looked at Kylo, and when had that stopped? Many of their meetings, even those in which they prayed together, were marked by suspicion. She hadn’t been unkind, but her discomfort read clear. Which was understandable. Their relationship was fraught, and Kylo often felt himself waiting for the act to drop, the spell to break and the General to-- what? Hit him, perhaps, or worse.

Now, however, the woman practically smiled at him. Her eyes scrunched at the corners, mouth curling as it did in his oldest memories.

“Lost track of time,” he muttered, centering himself.

“That’s alright. We kept busy, didn’t we, girls?”

Kylo’s eyes darted to the women on the wall. They shifted under the renewed attention, Anat most of all. Her pale arms were crossed over her chest and she hunched, shoulders drawn tight. Ren didn’t blame her; didn’t blame any of them. The General was a stern woman, and while he didn’t doubt her fairness, he also didn’t doubt she’d been sharp. She was-- in this and all things-- her father’s child. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking to each of the Knights in turn. 

“Fine,” Lotti assured. “The General has been--” The woman paused, considering her words carefully. “--thorough, but accommodating.”

Diplomatic, Ren thought. General Organa was rarely accused of being that, but he supposed the fact that she hadn’t sided with council was accommodation on its own.

“We had a good chat,” the General continued, shifting in her chair. She motioned for Kylo to come closer. “But I think Poe told you that already.”

“He did,” Ren said, obeying the call.

He crossed the room in a few strides, coming to a stop at Leia’s side. The woman looked up at him for a moment, eyes tracking between his eyes, his jaw, his wide chest, the long line of his nose. He couldn’t guess what she was seeing, or what she thought, but her expression warmed. She laid her hand over his own where he’d laid it on arm of the chair before continuing.

“You’ve been lucky,” she said lowly, speaking directly to him now. “Rey secured your safety, and I can do the same for the Knights. That being said--” Leia straightened in her chair, pressing up to meet him. “Pull another stunt like this, and there won't be anything I can do. Do you understand?”

Kylo shook his head, meaning to argue. He hadn’t called the Knights here, hadn’t so much as thought of contacting them in months. Surely they’d told her that.

“General,” he began, then paused, redirected: “Mother, I didn’t--”

“Do you understand me?”

He bit his lip. Leia's voice was stern, and he couldn't help but feel like a child being chided.

“I understand.”

She nodded, then gave his fingers and affectionate squeeze before releasing him.

“As details go,” she said, “I think you’ve heard as much as me already. Probably more.” Lotti opened her mouth to protest, but the General raised her hand for silence. “I’m not a fool, girl. But I don’t need to know everything. What the council specifically requested is enough.”

“Which was?” Rey asked, moving into Leia’s line of sight.

“Assurances, some definite proof of defection.” Leia blew out a slow breath, waving her hand dismissively. “Seeing as that one--” she nodded to Malka, who squared her shoulders. “--didn’t try to gut me with her boot knife once we were alone, I think we’ve got it.”

Malka’s stance broke, her face waning. “Commander Dameron disarmed us before--”

“He took your sabers,” Leia interrupted. “He didn’t think to ask for anything else, and you didn’t offer it.”

“You knew?” Lotti asked, brow knit. She looked incredulously between the General and Malka, whose concealed knife had apparently slipped her mind. “Why didn’t you say something, then? She could have killed you.”

A beat of silence, then the General laughed, clear and sharp and grating. Her head tilted, dark eyes glinting with something only adjacent to humor, she reminded Ren again of her father: half-whispered accounts of his odd moods, and unshakable self-assurance that belied first his age, and later his ruined body. Not for the first time, Kylo wondered how much of a person could slip through in the blood, and if Leia felt as haunted by Lord Vader as he did.

“She could’ve tried,” the General said, biting back the last peals of laughter. “But what matters to me-- and by extension, the council-- is that she didn’t.” Leia pushed herself up by the arms of the chair, shaking out the creases in her skirt. “I don’t pretend to know what brought you here, and personally, I don’t really care. What I do care about is giving the Order something to fear again. As you all seem willing to cooperate, I don’t see why we can’t get along.”

The Knights looked from Leia, fussing with the full body of her skirt, to each other in turn. Ren could hear their minds working as they whispered through their bond. Was this going well? They couldn’t tell. Leia was as peculiar and hard as the stories went, but she hadn’t ordered their execution yet. She’d even, Kylo discerned after a few minutes of listening, looked a little fondly at Anat; not overly so, but her eyes flashed in recognition and something that edged relief. One of the Knights-- probably Anat, Ren thought, though the lines were too jumbled to say for certain-- played back a fraction of the moment in their head, fixating on what Leia said: _You could probably carry_ me _now_.

“Relax,” Leia continued after a while, scanning the line of Knights. “I have to touch base with the council, but it’s just a formality. They won’t override me.” There it was again: confidence so blinding it’d led many of her kin to ruin. How had she avoided that? “You’re safe here.”

The Knights didn’t break their wall, but each nodded stiffly in acknowledgement, which was enough for the General.

“Now, run the bases by me again.” Leia pulled a small datapad from her coat, opening a note. “I want to make sure I tell them exactly what you said.”

Nyra took the lead, naming locations Ren assumed they’d discussed while he, Finn, and Rey were still trekking through the woods. The first was Viidaav, a mid rim planet of wide, sweeping deserts cut with mountains. The Order had a facility there that specialized in the rearing and training of children for the Trooper program. While moving on it wouldn’t affect the current ranks, a well-executed attack could set the program back as much as two years. It would be inoperable while the Order scrambled to make repairs and replace any children lost in the squabble. Which, if they were up to the challenge of repatriation, could be quite a few.

“They keep records of where each batch comes from. There won’t be families or names on file, but the origin planet at least will be listed. It isn’t much to go on, but--” Nyra shrugged. “--it’s something.”

Leia hummed, tapping at the screen. “We have enough slack now to arrange something like that. I’ll toss it around, see if it lands.”

Behpour was next: a small planet in the Naboo system that ran with rank, acidic lava. The planet had been used sporadically over the centuries, hosting the laboratories and factories of several warring factions. Ultimately, however, its arid nature and close proximity to the sun made it good for only short-term use. At present, it hosted a First Order prison. A small one, fit to hold no more than 50 prisoners, but high profile. There were currently no less than twenty government officials sweltering in it, ambassadors and senators of conquered planets that’d resisted the Order too violently to be allowed freedom. If the Resistance could destroy it, the prisoners could be sent home.

Granted, of course, that any were still living, and if they were well enough to travel if so. Conditions on Behpour were deplorable, and the lives of those assigned to it often short.

The final named target was a station orbiting Anobis, a planet chosen as much for its agriculture as for its relative anonymity. The galactic eye rarely turned to Anobis, making it a secure location for the Order’s civilian staff. The station was ran by techs and delegates, who collaborated with a few of the farmers below. It oversaw the production and distribution of over a third of the Order’s food supply; any disruption to that supply chain would be a massive blow.

“Alright,” Leia said, slipping her datapad back into her coat. “That should do. I leave in the morning, and plan on calling a meeting once I touch down. The council will want to discuss time frames and details, but I don’t expect that to take longer than a week.”

“In the meantime?” Kylo asked, looking pointedly between his mother and the Knights.

“Settle in,” she said. “All of you. This place needs work, and I doubt Poe will object to extra pairs of hands.”

Kylo didn’t expect he would either. “You’ll call when you’ve got a plan, then?”

“I always do. Now, if none of you mind, I’d like to get to bed.”

Without addressing the women again, Leia turned for the door. She paused on the way to give Finn and Rey both a pat on their shoulders, and to favor Kylo with a peck to the cheek. 

“I’ll find you before I leave,” she said. “If you aren't too embarrassed to have breakfast with your mother.”

Ren's mouth twitched. No doubt she’d find if amusing if he _were_ embarrassed; the General was fond of her jokes. He wasn't, however, and told her as much. Leia’s smile softened at that, and she patted him on the chest before continuing on her way.

It was several long minutes after the door closed behind her before the Knights spoke again, but Kylo didn’t miss how their dour expressions broke, or how their eyes lingered on his cheek. 

Heat blooming up his neck, Ren scrubbed hard at his face, as if he could wipe the memory of Leia’s motherly kiss from their memory.

 

 

Despite having housed many rotations of First Order Troopers and staff in the two years since Kylo’s last visit, the camp was undeniably in shambles. Whatever they'd done on base, upkeep wasn’t on the roster.

Much of the courtyard was overgrown, choked by tall grass and weeds that climbed up the bases of the barracks. Dirt and pale green mildew covered the exterior of the huts and compound, and the small windows set there were milky and clouded. Even the interior was falling into disrepair. The lesser used rooms were stuffed carelessly with spare tools and uniforms, all rusted or reeking of mold. The walls and floors throughout were stained, the worst being in the bathrooms and kitchen. A few wash stations and a single cooking unit had been passably tended, but the rest were ringed with rust and pink, creeping mold. Even the roof had begun to sag in places, beaten by persistent rains.

The only areas of camp in good condition were the sleeping quarters and training pads, suggesting that those stationed here spent most of their time at leisure or sparring. Kylo wasn’t surprised. Without himself or the Knights to guard, there was little for Troopers to do here. Likely they viewed their brief stationing as a retreat, a break from the bustle of standard days. Given that attitude, it seemed fitting that they hadn’t done much maintenance. Still, he couldn’t help the twist of disappointment he felt as he surveyed the grounds. He’d thought often of this place in his absence, both before and after his defection, and trusted it was at least being minimally cared for. 

His faith, marginal as it’d been, had clearly been misplaced.

Disappointment aside, however, Kylo was grateful for the work. It gave the Knights something to do while they awaited news from Belsavis, and forced interaction between the women and Resistance teams that otherwise might’ve been avoided for weeks. 

Finn was the first to bridge the gap, wandering to where the women sat resting under a large, shady tree on the second afternoon of cleaning. Kylo had pointed Suu out to him that morning, and Finn, still brimming with questions about the forest, hadn’t been able to resist her long. Ignoring the whispered protests of his companions, Finn followed the Knights to their tree, launching almost immediately into a line of questioning about the landscape. Suu stared a while, plainly stunned, but recovered quickly. As the other women passed a water canteen, she followed his line, answering his rapid-fire as thoroughly as she could as he hopped excitedly between topics.

The others watched, stealing glances from where they knelt weeding or scrubbing or hammering out repairs. Some suspiciously, others merely interested. The Knights cut an impressive figure, and their harmless interaction with Finn stoked the teams’ curiosity. It thrummed from them, a steady, overlapping beat of thoughts: _maybe I could-- doesn’t seem dangerous-- wouldn’t have let Finn go if--_

After Finn’s excursion, the teams spent the day breaking off-- occasionally in singles, though more often in twos--, finding excuses to engage the Knights. The exchanges were stilted, no more than a few words about the progress on camp or the beating sun, but their effect on both groups’ moods was marked. The Knights were visibly more relaxed with each exchange, and after having spoken with them and deeming them odd but ultimately harmless, the Resistance members no longer peeked anxiously over their shoulders. 

Kylo spent the week hopping between tasks: repairing the roof, cutting through the dense grass, rebuilding the perimeter fence to ward off curious animals. He mediated between Dameron and the Knights when he could, settling disputes over where they could wander and for how long while they waited for Leia, and helped smooth interactions between the women and Resistance. Neither took much effort. Despite the initial discomfort, the women integrated quickly. They didn’t make friends or interact much outside of the work day, but the teams no longer looked at the women as though they were feral. Given enough downtime-- and here, in the green heart of nowhere, there were ample amounts of downtime-- the two groups could even relax enough to ring the firepit together. That, Kylo thought, was progress enough for one week.

In his own free time that wasn’t devoted to training with Rey, Ren made a game of exploring the old huts. Though they were meant to house himself and the Knights, apart from the first night they’d so far stood empty. They were the filthiest features of camp, exposed to the elements as they were, and while repairs were made the six of them slept in the barracks. As the week drew to a close, however, Kylo found himself incapable of resisting their call. 

While a few people worked on cleaning their exteriors and patching roofs, Ren let himself into each hut, combing for memories. He started with Kish’s, gathered trinkets to enshrine with her carved kyber. Those he lined on her cot for safekeeping, but others he pocketed for himself and the other Knights: a few worn letters penned in her hand, a book, and an old, tarnished pendant. Ren laughed fondly at that last. She’d been wearing it when he recruited her, and though Snoke forbade ornaments of any kind she hadn’t disposed of it. It’d belonged to her mother and grandmother before; she couldn’t bring herself to part with it. 

Kylo had helped her hide it here, given her a wooden box to rest it in and slip beneath her cot. There was no danger in it, really; Snoke never visited, and likely never gave the pendant a thought again. Still, the act had brought them closer. It gave them a secret to smile over together when they were feeling brave, and-- on rare, treacherous occasions-- something to pull out and take comfort in. A reminder that their master didn’t, _couldn’t_ , know everything.

He checked the rest of the Knights’ huts next, taking each inside with him. They were alive still, after all, and he didn’t want to risk offending them by spying. They explored in pairs, picking through abandoned trinkets and notes; relics now of what seemed another life. Though Snoke had never come to Voss himself, his shadow laid over everything. The austere huts, the miserable piety of the writings scattered across the floor, the baubles squirreled away in dark corners like sin. It was odd, Ren thought, how freeing these huts had seemed before. They’d been homely almost, a place to escape. 

Now they reeked of prison, and Kylo wouldn’t ask the women to sleep here again until the stench of it had been rooted out.

He came last to his own hut, and then only because he couldn’t put it off longer. The week was out by then, and though Dameron hadn’t heard from Leia yet Kylo knew it was coming. The General never missed a deadline. When she called, as he expected she would soon, their lives would be in flux again. Training would resume, as would prep for mission runs, and what free time Ren had would be eaten up by his studies with Rey. If he wanted the hut purged of Snoke’s shadow, it had to be done now.

“Can I join you?” Rey asked, intercepting him on the way.

He hesitated. It’d been years since he’d been inside; what had he left, and what would she see? Nothing overly offensive, certainly. He wasn’t allowed enough personal effects for that to be a danger. Squalor, though, would be tangible enough, and hate so thick it’d sunk into stone. He didn’t care for the idea of her seeing it, but without any real reason to refuse--

“If you like,” he said slowly. “But there won’t be much to see.”

Rey shrugged, brushing sticky hair from her eyes. She’d been helping scrub the huts all morning, and her face and arms were slick with sweat. Kylo’s attention snagged on the muscle there, admiring the slight swell. Rey was toned before, but training filled her out. Where she struggled to pin him in their initial sessions, she now could flip him with relative easy. She knew how best to throw her weight, roll him, straddle and--

Ren swallowed. It was a dangerous thought, and pointless to linger over. Affectionate as she’d grown, the woman had shown no interest in that close of contact outside the ring. 

Motioning for her to fall in stride, Kylo continued on to the hut. His was the most remote, tucked near the back corner of the compound. Three Resistance members had beaten them there, and were working on the exterior when they arrived. One was hammering new panels to the roof, and the others were perched on ladders, scrubbing the stone from either side. Nodding to them each in turn, Ren slipped through the door, trusting Rey would follow.

He halted just inside the the door, surveying the single room. It was as dreary as he expected. The stone cot was exposed, its blankets packed away years ago, and covered in a thick layer of grime. Though the high sun shone through the window, it did little to brighten the room. If anything, it darkened it, sharpening the shadows along the perimeter and beneath the bed. A small, handmade desk sat next to the window, covered in trinkets: stones, scraps of metal, even a few tiny carvings. Things Kylo recognized as having been gathered on missions, hidden in his robes until he could smuggle them here.

Apart from the trifles on the desk, there was no decoration. The walls were bare, unpainted, and cold, wrapping around him like a tomb. Ren snorted at the thought. How had he slept like this? Would he be able to now?

“Should I leave the door open?” Rey asked, dragging him from the thought. “It might help.”

It might, Ren thought. It’d cycle out the stale air if nothing else. He hummed his assent, but didn’t look back at the woman. His attention, which had been bouncing around the miserable room, snagged on something beneath the bed. Something small and box-like, a shape darker than the shadow surrounding it. Head cocking, he dropped to his knees and moved closer.

Rey took no notice. After propping the door open, her own attention caught on the desk. Ren heard her cross to it and begin fussing with the baubles. Each piece clinked as she turned them, examining them like relics in a temple.

“Were these yours?” she asked, her tone more mournful than curious. 

Ren resisted the urge to deny it. Who else’s would these miserable artifacts be?

“Technically, no.” Pressing his chest to the floor, Ren peered beneath the bed. There were several things stuffed there upon closer inspection: the box he’d spied, as well as a balled, musty blanket and a few shards of glass. It was the box, however, that interested him now. “We weren’t allowed possessions.”

“Where did you get these, then?”

“On missions, mostly. Most of it I found in scrap yards, or lying in the street.” He stretched, just catching the corner of the box with his fingertips. “Now that I think of it, it was probably trash.”

Redoubling his efforts, Kylo reached again, this time managing to get hold of one corner. He dragged it out then sat back, resting on his knees. After taking a moment to dust himself off, Ren laid the box in his lap for closer examination.

It was a small, no wider or longer than his hand, and like everything else was covered in a thick layer of dust. Kylo grimaced, then brushed it off with the hem of his sleeve. As he buffed it clean, he tried to place the object. It was familiar, but only just. He remembered stowing it on one of his first trips to Voss, and having done his best to forget it after, but the why of it escaped him. Until, of course, the lid was clean enough for him to read the engraving.

His breath caught at the sight: Luke’s sprawling name laid in dark wood, claiming the craftsmanship, and a few secondary sets of lettering along the edges for protection. Oh. _Oh_. How had he forgotten this?

“What's that?” Rey asked, finally taking notice. She sat a metal piece down noisily, then crossed the hut. She took a seat on the cot, planting her feet on either side of Kylo's knees. “More garbage?”

She was only teasing, but Kylo scowled, shook his head. He felt her tense above him, then her shadow fell as she leaned in for a better look.

“Is that--” She studied it a second longer, then sucked in a breath. “It is. How did you…”

Kylo didn't have to look up to guess her expression. He could hear her mind working, cycling through explanations of how he'd come by the box. 

“I went back,” he said, saving her the trouble. “Months later, when I was sure he'd be gone.” 

There’d been a reason for that, but Ren didn’t expound. He didn’t want to dissect the memory now. It had been a hateful, horrible day. The temple sat as he’d left it: charred and collapsing as though Skywalker hadn’t even tried to salvage it. And perhaps he hadn't. Were their positions reversed, Kylo knew he wouldn't have. Still, the sight cut. It'd been his home, and Skywalker's, and fleeing the scene had been significantly less mortifying than returning.

“I took what I could,” he continued, thumbing the meeting of the lid and base. “Ideological differences aside, Skywalker had things I needed. I was hoping he’d left some of it, either intentionally or by mistake. The temple was full of hidden places; he couldn’t have remembered where he stored everything.”

Not in the smoldering ruin, distressed as he was. And Ren had been right. There were a few things left: practice staves and a small store of books miraculously untouched by the flame, and this. A box, originally one of many, crafted by Luke himself. Kylo had seen him working on the pieces, carefully carving vessels for the honorable gift he intended to lay inside.

“It’s pretty,” Rey muttered, still leaning over him. “But why would you need an old box?”

Kylo snorted. “I didn’t. Unfortunately, there was nothing better lying around to swap it with. Besides, Skywalker’s concealment charms--” He ran a finger down a line of odd letters. “--were more than I could’ve done. He was more protective of that craft than anything else, and didn't bother to teach it." Ren, of course, had pestered him for the secret. They all had. Where had he learned it, the art of enchanting letters, and why couldn't they know it? But the man had kept his silence. "Keeping his box was my best hope of smuggling it here.”

“Smuggling what?”

Kylo lifted the box in lieu of answering, inviting her to see for herself. Slowly, almost reverently, Rey plucked the lid free. When her eyes found the nestled contents, they blew wide.

“Can I?” she asked. 

The question was only a formality. Her hand was in the box before Kylo could answer, digging the faceted hunk of kyber inside. It was a large piece, as long as Rey’s palm and fat as three of her fingers. It was glassy still, unaltered by any Force user, but when the light hit its angles it seemed to glow. Rey gawked at it crystal a moment, rolling it in her palm to catch different lights, experimenting with the play of the sun.

“I’ve never seen one so big,” she whispered.

That wasn’t saying much. She’d only seen two, and one of those only through the broken end of a saber. Still, it _was_ an impressive piece. Whoever Luke had intended this for, the old man clearly thought highly of them.

“Skywalker had excellent sources,” Ren said.

“I can tell. Why didn’t you use this?”

Ren chewed his lip. As excellent a specimen as it was, there were several reasons he hadn’t wanted to use the kyber. His immediate anger with Skywalker was chief among them; barring that, he hadn’t really needed it. He’d taken his training saber when he left the temple, and Snoke had enough crystal of his own when the time came for Ren to construct a new one. The kyber was… _trophy_ was a crass word, but he supposed it was fitting enough.

“Snoke had stores of his own for the Knights and I to choose from. Besides, he’d have taken it if he’d known. Connections to Skywalker were...heavily discouraged.”

Rey grimaced, but didn’t ask him to expound. Having met the former Supreme Leader herself, she could guess his methods well enough.

“Shame,” she said, returning her attention to the crystal. She pinched it between her thumb and lead fingers, twisting it to catch a slant of sun. “It’d make a sturdy heart for a saber.”

It would, but the fact remained that he already had one. Though it’d been a year since he’d last held it, Ren hadn’t given up hope of having it returned. After all, Dameron trusted him with a blaster now. Why should a saber be any different? Rey, however--

Kylo dragged up an old image: Rey, swathed in electric light, her hands wrapped tight around a hilt. Untrained as she’d been, she bore the weapon well, her years of work with a quarterstaff lending her some skill. The sight of her twirling it, cutting air to build momentum, had been alluring. And how much more true would that be now? How captivating would she be with countless hours of training and observation under her belt? Kylo could almost picture it: her skin colored by the blade’s glow, the smell of ozone as it activated mixing with her sweat, teeth bared as she circled an unfortunate enemy. 

“It would,” he agreed. He chewed his tongue considering his words, then rocked back on his heels to look at her. “Which is why I’m giving it to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rey huffed, the words not immediately registering. She was toying with the kyber still, making rainbows with it on the domed ceiling. “I’m not building a saber.”

“You could be.”

“In theory, yes, but--” 

Rey broke, mouth making a hard line. Her wrist flagged and the crystal arced down, but her attention didn’t follow it. She stared at the ceiling a moment, as though captivated by the little tremors made by the hammering on the other side. When her eyes finally snapped to Kylo, they were keen, oddly lit, and pinned him like a bug between her legs.

“What are you saying?”

Her voice was tremulous, but her focus didn’t waver. It took more will than Ren cared to admit not to squirm beneath it.

“You’ve read the books,” he said. “Seen the instructionals.” He waited for Rey to nod before continuing. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought of it.”

She swallowed, throat working slow. “Reading a few pages doesn't make me an expert.”

“You made your staff, didn’t you?”

“That isn’t the same.”

“No,” Ren agreed. “But the Knights and I constructed our own. Any assistance you needed, we could provide.”

Rey opened her mouth to protest, but clamped it shut again moments later. She opened the fist she’d made around the kyber, looking between it and Ren. 

“Is this a joke?” she asked, brow knitting. “Because if it is--”

“It isn’t,” he soothed, walking closer on his knees. He closed the distance between the cot, stopping only when his chest met stone. His arms brushed Rey’s thighs, and through the fabric he felt the muscles jump. “I wouldn’t.”

He felt her break against the wall of his mind, searching for a fissure. She wanted to probe him, to be very sure; Ren understood. It was, truthfully, an impressive crystal. But he’d meant what he said, and with nothing to hide he allowed her entry. Keeping his eyes on hers, Ren relaxed, enjoying the heat that ran out ahead of her as she swept through his thoughts. She burrowed for long minutes, far longer than she had in some time. She was unused to gifts, Kylo supposed, and suspicious by default. He knew something of that.

When she was satisfied Rey receded, drawing back her warmth. Ren whined faintly at the loss before he could school himself, and her expression softened. Careful not to scuff it, she laid the kyber down on the cot beside her and scooted, centering her thighs on Kylo’s arms.

“No one’s ever given me something like this,” she murmured. There was a strange edge to her voice, a burn in her energy Ren hadn’t felt before. It made the hinges of his jaw water; did she need to be this close? “I don’t know what to say.”

Kylo’s fingers tightened around the fabric at his knees. He was kneeling still, and acutely aware of the woman’s legs closing around him. The strong muscles pressed in to trap him, and a throbbing heat bled through his tunic.

“It-- it’s nothing,” he stuttered, cursing his tongue. “Just an old stone.”

Rey barked a laugh, but the sound wasn’t unkind. She leaned in, bending almost to meet him. Locks of hair that’d worked loose through the day fell over her shoulder, swinging close enough for him to brush against if he turned. But he didn’t. He sat still as stone, eyes flicking between Rey’s and her parted lips, feeling as though all the blood had been drawn from him.

“If you say so.” The words puffed against his chin, and Kylo’s breath hitched. “Can I give _you_ something?”

She shifted, the line of her nose nudging his his. Ren’s lids fell; he felt heavy, malleable, like clay caught between her knees. There was no need for her to be this close, but he wouldn’t pull back; he didn’t want to. He could smell her hair, her sweat-sticky skin, the weak caf lingering on her breath. 

Close. Her mouth painfully, terribly close. His own parted instinctively and he panted, thought _please_ ; or had he said it? He couldn’t be sure, but either way, Rey seemed to hear it. Hesitating only a moment longer, the woman closed their fractional distance and brushed her lips carefully against his own. Kylo tensed at the contact, but quickly relaxed, sinking into it with a breathy groan. He returned it, pressing a kiss to the swell of her lower lip. The flesh was plush and yielding, tender as he’d ever dared to imagine; he groaned again, then winced at the sound. 

_Pathetic_ , he thought, but Rey didn’t seem to agree. Her thighs tightened at the sound, and she favored him with a friendly nip before pulling back to knock her nose against his.

“What do you say?” she teased. “Is that a fair trade?” 

Her eyes were bright and playful, but Kylo didn’t miss the tremor in her voice. It echoed the flutter in his gut, and kicked his pulse into gear. Blood beat viciously beneath his jaw, and a heavy ache settled in his tongue. For a moment, he worried he wouldn’t be able to answer. He felt helpless and miserably exposed. Still, it was a small comfort to find Rey wasn’t unaffected. Color was high on her cheeks, and even through her thick pants Kylo felt the off-kilter beat of her blood. 

He swallowed, throat catching and dry. If this was a game, he could at least console himself with the fact that he wasn’t the only one losing. 

“It’s quite a large stone,” he said finally. “I’m not sure.”

He let his eyes drop to her lips again. They glistened a little now, the pout slick with spit. Ren felt the mortifying urge to smear it. 

Either guessing the thought-- or more likely, having read it-- Rey flushed, but didn’t abandon the game.

“One more, then?”

Kylo bit his tongue sharply, choking an embarrassing sound. 

Yes, he thought; another sounded much more fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not a slow burn unless you have to wait 15 chapters for a real kiss ;)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which time passes and new plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright everyone, we're heading into the final arc of the story now! There's still several chapters left (about seven if my memory of the outline is correct), but the final action is setting up. I'm really excited to see it play out, and hope y'all stick around for the impending finale. 
> 
> This chapter is pretty action-y and does a bit of a time hop, so buckle up!

Once the council approved the Knight's three targets, the next six months moved quickly.

Dameron split his time between Belsavis and Voss, coordinating with the teams on each as they trained. Though Major Akiva was still housed on Belsavis base, and was willing to oversee the program himself, Poe often spent a week or two at a time holed up in the training rooms there. 

“It's not that I don't trust him,” he said over the communicators one evening. “He's just not as young as he used to be. I don't want those kids busting up our best instructor.”

“Why don't you tell him that?” Rey joked. “I'm sure he'd appreciate the concern.”

She, Finn, and Kylo had been gathered around the control panel then, debriefing the Commander on what he'd missed while away. The three of them were charged with overseeing operations in Dameron's absence. Finn managed resettlement efforts, integrating newcomers as they trickled in and planning expansions to accommodate them. The quarters established for those arriving after the barracks filled were crude, no more than a makeshift hut or several cobbled together tents, but no one complained. Regardless of sleeping arrangements, Voss was far and away more comfortable than Belsavis. Kylo didn't doubt that many would've suffered a hammock in the trees if it meant never having to visit that ice box again.

As for combat training and drills, responsibility was split between Kylo and Rey. The two divided the base into teams, rotating them for several hours each day according to the schedule Dameron set. For her own part, Rey settled into the role with ease. Most of the Voss residents had joined the Resistance as part of her recruitment efforts, and those that hadn’t knew her from before. She’d fought beside them since joining herself, and none took issue with her leadership. For Ren, however, the position took some adjustment.

Despite his blooming popularity among the newer recruits, there was still a thread of mistrust running through the older members. While those that’d joined the Order after his arrival had largely dropped their guard, the holdovers from before Crait were less obliging. Men and women drawn over with thick, old scars whispered to each other at the back of Ren’s groups or, less surreptitiously, as he paced between them, adjusting forms. This wasn’t unexpected, of course. Having gained the trust of as many as he had was more than Ren ever expected, and he didn’t begrudge anyone their suspicion. Still, it was grating to catch the words.

With that came the almost overwhelming amount of attention the position granted him. Before he’d been sidelined, speaking largely through Rey or Poe. His suggestions were taken in meetings, but outside of that forum he rarely interacted with the Resistance at large. He spent his time alone, or with Rey or General Organa individually, and on missions was rarely paired with anyone other than Finn or Rey. On the few occasions he’d been added to a larger group, he was always accompanied by them, and the two acted as mediators between himself and the rest of their peers. Now, however, with Finn managing base and Rey consumed with drills of her own, nothing stood between Ren and the Resistance. Each day of Dameron’s haphazard absences, he faced them alone.

“You’re overthinking it,” Rey said, somewhat dismissive when he mentioned the discomfort.

Kylo turned his head to look at her over the grass. Training had ended for the day, and the two of them were cooling behind Ren’s hut. The shadow of it was long now, stretching in the late afternoon light, and most of the heat had gone from the day. Ren laid on his back, stretched out and legs crossed at the ankles. Both his tunic and undershirt were off, the former folded like a pillow beneath his head and the latter flattened out to dry. The breeze skated pleasantly over his chest and belly, pebbling the skin, coaxing a contented sigh from him now and then. 

“You would say that,” he mumbled, weaving his fingers over his belly. “They like _you_.”

“They like you too.” Ren cocked a brow, and Rey redirected. “Alright, maybe not all of them, but what does it matter?” She returned her attention to the pile of scraps in her lap. “They listen to you, don’t they?”

“Because Dameron says to.”

“Who they listen to because General Organa says to. That's how chain of command works.” She shook her head, separating the scraps into several piles around her. “Or did you think everyone personally loves him?”

Kylo hadn’t thought of it much, really, but he’d assumed that was the general consensus. “Don’t they?”

“Some do,” Rey said. “Some don’t, but they follow him anyway because they trust Leia’s judgement, and because Poe hasn’t led us wrong yet. Whether they’d get along as civilians doesn’t matter. If you stopped worrying for ten minutes--” The woman paused, plucking a few pieces from various piles and testing how they looked together. “--you’d see the same applies to you.”

Ren stared at her over the grass, tonguing the point of one tooth. He wanted to argue, say that anyone’s dislike of Dameron was fundamentally different than their dislike of him. Poe had never been their enemy. He’d been selfish in the past, reckless and impulsive, but his alignment was never in doubt. As for Kylo… well. His history spoke for itself. 

“Your recent history speaks too, you know.”

Kylo rolled his eyes at the intrusion. Still spying, it seemed, and getting better all the time. Not for the first time, Ren was grateful he had nothing to hide.

“Didn’t a master ever tell you that it’s rude to pry?”

“No.” A tease of a smile played on her mouth, and she nudged his hip with her bare foot. “But one did say it was sometimes necessary to be permissive. Maybe you should take it up with him.”

Kylo snorted, both at the twisting of his old words and at the implication that he was somehow her master. The woman was, in study and all ways, indomitable. 

“How’s your new prototype coming?” he asked, steering the conversation to new territory. He nodded to the scraps that haloed her knees. “And what about the last one? I thought you liked it.”

Rey blew out a breath, picking at the pieces. “It was fine, I just want to be sure. We aren’t overflowing with kyber, and I don’t want to waste the piece you gave me.”

That wasn’t entirely true; Ren could sense that, even without digging too deeply into the woman’s thoughts. He’d caught her dozens of times, pouring over the basics of saber construction and whispering with the Knights about theirs. She wasn’t worried about design-- her previous drafts had been lovely-- so much as she was afraid of botching the final product. Failure was an old fear that followed her wherever she went. It slowed her steps, made her over-cautious, and now delayed her in this. Kylo wasn’t insensitive. Lightsabers were sacred, revered weapons, physical manifestations of their owner’s connection to the Force. Rey’s anxiety wasn’t unique or even unhealthy, but too much was a hindrance.

“Do you still have the others?” he asked. She nodded, and he gave a thoughtful hum. “Finish this one, then, and pick between the three. Rey--” he cut her off preemptively, seeing her mouth twitch with the threat of dissent. “--you know as well as I do that the first would've been fine.”

Her jaw clenched in annoyance, but she didn’t argue. A small favor. It wasn’t often she let him go unchallenged. 

“Have Anat help choose, if you can’t. The two of you have similar tastes.”

Rey was silent a while, her mouth turned down in an uncharacteristic pout. Kylo almost regretted his words, but resisted doubling back. He hadn’t spoken unfairly, hadn’t even been stern. She was only nervous.

“What if I can’t do it?” she mumbled eventually. Her eyes were fixed on Ren’s waist, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze. “What if I do everything the books, and Anat, and you say, but--”

She trailed off, her eyes overwet. Kylo's guy drew tight, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows, calling for her full attention. When he had it, he made sure to speak gently.

“I haven’t set you up to fail. You have everything you need: the materials, the help, and-- most importantly-- the skill.” He paused, then dared to tease. “Maybe if you stopped worrying for ten minutes.”

Rey snickered, her dour expression slipping. She nudged him again with her foot, leaving it this time to linger over his hip. Kylo squirmed when her toes flexed, pinching the skin, but didn't pull away. The contact seemed to ground her.

“Alright,” she agreed, returning to her scraps. From somewhere behind her she produced a driver, and carefully began attaching the chosen pieces. “But if it’s hideous, I’m blaming you.”

“Fine.”

Kylo lowered himself onto his back, relaxing into the grass once more as Rey worked. He let his eyes drift closed, content to listen to the wind through the trees and the metallic clink of her driver. 

Though her mood lifted, Rey didn’t pull back her foot. It stayed pressed gently into his side, flexing now and then as she thought, warm and unspeakably comforting.

 

 

Viidaav fell easiest, a fact Kylo attributed more to the element of surprise than anything. Long months had passed since the Crul attack, and while Kylo doubted Hux’s personal alert had flagged, the minds of those on Viidaav were elsewhere.

Though the planet itself was sparsely populated and even more sparsely armed, the First Order training facility was a veritable fortress. Its reputation of turning out the most consistently successful batches of Troopers made it precious, and Hux spared no expense in protecting it. The Officers that ran it were exceptionally trained, as were its guards, and the exterior walls of it were blast resistant. Apart from the Hux’s flagship, it was perhaps one of the most fortified targets the Knights could have suggested. Risk aside, however, the allure was undeniable. Disrupting the facility even an afternoon would send a strong message, especially if the Resistance managed to steal away with some of the children inside. Which, to Ren’s amazement, they did.

Within a few hours of landing, the teams assigned to the mission managed to sneak into the facility through a garbage chute. It wasn’t a glamorous entrance, and something the soldier’s would gloss over when they retold the story over booze, but an effective one. Tracing the chute back to its origin dumped the teams into a utility room, lined with several other chutes for trash, laundry, and waste. To Commander Dameron’s relief, it also served as the maintenance staff’s control room, and as such had several service maps taped to the walls. With the aid of those, a few soldiers were able to branch out, lay their explosives, and detonate within minutes.

Once the circuit breakers were interrupted, the lights blown and the doors sprung open from their bellies, there was little time for the staff to react. Those within reach of the blasts were knocked wide, either dead on impact or too badly burned to give chase, and any that came running after were quickly incapacitated. The plan, miraculously, went without a hitch, and after no more than half a day the Resistance made a mess of the facility.

As a bonus, they were also able to snag several children as they scuttled through the fray. Not as many as Rey had hoped for, but the nature of their attack made that impossible. At the first explosion, most of the children were dragged away, locked in a panic room for safekeeping. That they’d gotten any at all was impressive, and when they left that day, the blast door belching dark smoke behind them, Ren counted the mission as the highest likely success.

Behpour was a very near failure by contrast, redeemed only by the fact that no Order staff survived to report it.

Riding the high of Viidaav, the Resistance moved on the prison barely a week later. The timing was almost their undoing. The Order was still on alert, it’s highest profile stations operating under heavier guard; while Behpour couldn't have known about the attack, they were certainly well-prepared for one. As the Resistance flew over the outskirts seeking somewhere safe to land, they were met with heavy fire. Concealed in walker pods and smaller ships, gunners assailed them from land and air, bringing down two of their ships and badly damaging a third. By the time the Resistance cleared the threat, their fallen ships had sunk in noxious lava, taking the pilots and crews with them.

They faced a similar barrage at the prison gate, and didn’t fare much better. The damaged ship was brought down over the prison yard, trapping the crew between a high wall and a firing squad. Seeing the ship fall, Kylo peeled off and sped to its aid, but to little effect. By the time he was within range the entire team was dead, picked off by long guns as they fled the ship.

After what felt like hours, the remaining Resistance ships managed to cut down the defense squad around the prison’s perimeter. Once the area was clear, they touched down and stormed the facility, sending the Knights ahead to cut through the door. Inside, the fight was less fatal. There were few soldiers there, most having joined the perimeter squad, and cutting through them proved no challenge. The Knights did most of that themselves, clearing the path as Dameron barked for them to turn this way and that, searching for the cells.

When they found them, the Commander was mortified to see that only one was occupied. Though littered with signs of life-- dirty clothes, blankets, discarded cups and plates-- the others stood empty, a realization of the Resistance’s fears. They’d come too late. Only a single ambassador from Naboo was still living, and he only in the loosest sense. 

Poe sent men to the kitchens for water while Kylo and his Knights combed the compound. While the prisoner was nursed, the six of them rooted out the remaining staff. There weren’t many: a scattered maintenance crew and a few guards, but Dameron’s orders were clear. There was no room for prisoners on what remained of their ships, but leaving anyone to report this disaster wasn’t an option. 

Ren and the Knights returned only when the building was cleared, then helped escort their sickly rescue to the landing pad. Down three ships and grieving twelve comrades, the Resistance returned for Voss more somberly than they’d left it.

The ambassador died in flight. If Ren had ever seen Dameron more miserable, he couldn’t remember it.

Tempered by the disaster on Behpour, the Resistance didn’t fly out again for nearly two months. They spent the intervening time recovering. Dameron and Akiva chose replacements for the lost crew from a batch of new recruits, and devoted their time to bringing them up to speed. General Organa and the council argued for several weeks about how best to replace their ships, but in the end settled on draining their newly replenished coffers for new models.

 _Why scavenge for rust buckets if we don’t have to?_ Leia asked, transferring funds. _If we’d had better ships in the first place, we wouldn’t have lost those men._

Which, of course, was a point no one could argue.

When they’d secured the ships and passably trained the replacement crew, the council finally authorized another run. Dameron took the assignment gravely, and after assembling a team of his strongest pilots flew out the following week. The trip was long, made longer by the tense silence over the lines. Though they'd each strapped into their headsets before take-off, no one spoke more than a few words before the station came into sight. When it did, the lines began to crackle with breath, each pilot momentarily knocked back by view.

“The Order didn’t spare any expense, did they?” one of the women whistled, breaking the silence.

It hadn’t. The station was a great circuit of wide, tall tubes faced entirely with glittering plexi. Some of it was tinted, lending personal rooms privacy, but for the most part the eye could pass unhindered through its circumference. Granted, of course, that the onlooker didn’t get tangled on the way. The tubes were labyrinthian, winding and intersecting like the streets of a floating city. Which it largely was. The staff here were mostly civilians: statisticians, farm techs, delegates and their families. The station functioned more as a port city than a base, and the Order had done what it could to make the far-flung location appealing to that particular demographic.

“It’s pretty, alright,” Poe drawled in response. “But where are the fighters? They should’ve scrambled by now.”

By then the Resistance had tightened formation. They flew laps around the sprawling station, scouting out goods transports and potential patrol ships. They hadn't bothered with stealth-- close as they’d need to be to fire on the transports, there was no point-- but still, the station hasn't deployed a single TIE. Which, Kylo thought, was odd, as they’d clearly been spotted. Even at this speed, he could catch smeared glimpses of bodies pressed against the windows.

“I don’t think they have any.”

“What? Why wouldn’t they?”

“Look around, Commander.” Kylo swung wide, breaking formation to count the transports. There were eight heavy barges idling to the left, half with their noses to open space and half facing the planet. “We're in the middle of nowhere. If Hux is having to amp security in anticipation of attack, why would he waste any here? So far it’s only been compounds and prisons we’ve hit.”

A long, crackling silence passed through the line, stretching the length of two more laps around the station.

“Poe?” Finn asked finally, voice hesitant. “What do you want us to do?”

Dameron cleared his throat. Through the wide front window of his own ship, Ren saw the other man's veer left.

“Blow the transports. All of them. I don't want Hux getting a grain of what's been growing planetside.”

“And the station?”

“Leave it.” Through the line, Kylo could hear the other man adjusting his grip on his center stick. “I’m not gunning down a bunch of farm techs.”

“Hux would,” Ren muttered before he could think better of it.

“Yea, well, I’m not Hux. Got a problem with that, Solo?”

Kylo shook his head, belatedly remembering the other man wouldn’t see it. “No, Commander.”

“Good. Now, everyone pair up and pick a transport. Quick like, in and out. Let’s not over-complicate an easy one.”

One by one, the pilots chimed through the comm, a overlap of _yes, commander_ and tagging call signs as they paired for the assault. Once they split, the transports fell within minutes, their bulk breaking and contents spilling out to crystallize in open space. Kylo didn’t need to turn to know that the eyes of the station were on them, and on the terrible tonnage of waste.

As Dameron turned them back, leaving the staff to report the damage, he wondered if they knew how lucky they were.

 

 

 

“Loses aside, this is sustainable,” Commander Dameron said, sweeping a hand across the war room table. He gestured to the projections floating there, grainy bobbing markers of the places they'd hit. “I know it, the General knows it, and I think all of you do too.”

He looked around the room, which was packed to the walls with officers, pilots, and techs. He lingered for a moment on Kylo, Rey, and Finn, who were seated at the opposite end of the long table. The four of them were back on Belsavis for a committee meeting, having left Voss under the joint control of a senior Resistance member and the Knights. The women had integrated well over the last six months, their valor in combat endearing them to the Resistance elders and their deep knowledge of Voss catching the attention of the younger, more curious recruits. Ren rarely had to mediate between them now, for which he was grateful. Voss was safest when its inhabitants were in harmony, and besides: their cooperate made leaving them unattended for a few days less terrifying.

“We’re comfortable,” Poe continued. “Our numbers are up, our territory is expanding, and we’ve made a few good dents in the Order’s pride. If someone had told me a year ago we’d be having this conversation, I--” The man paused, huffed a laugh. “My point is, we’re doing alright. If our recruitment and luck keeps up, we could chuck rocks at Hux’s windows indefinitely.”

“But?” a man-- Captain Tito, Kylo corrected, newly promoted-- to the Commander’s left goaded.

“But I don’t want to do that. I’d die for any one of you, but I’d rather get you out of these bases and on with the rest of your lives.” Poe swiped the tip of his tongue over his cracked lower lip. “We need a new plan. One that’s going to actually get us somewhere. If anyone’s got a suggestion, I’d be thrilled to hear it.”

The room grumbled for a while, a mess of whispers as the attendees springboarded off one another. Kylo sat, content to watch and listen as Finn and Rey did the same. The two chittered, faces pressed close, and Ren felt a deep tug of fondness at the sight. He thought back to Dameron’s words-- _if someone had told me a year ago..._ \-- and nearly laughed himself. Whatever he’d dared to hope for then, the possibility of sitting in on a high-level meeting, surrounded and trusted, hadn’t occurred.

After a while, a pilot cleared his throat, calling the room’s attention to the back.

“So far,” he said, moving closer to the table, “we’ve had decent luck on the offense. Our gunners are good, our stealth rarely cracks, and now with the Knights--” He waved through the air, miming the sweep of a saber, and a laughs peppered the room. “--we’ve got a leg up on close combat. It might be worth it to hit closer to home. The Order’s strong, sure, but there’s got to be something Hux can’t afford to lose.”

Dameron nodded, considering. “We’ve got the men and ships, for sure.” His attention cut across the table to Ren. “What do you think, Solo? Does Hux have a blind spot?”

Kylo straightened in his chair, shaking his head.

“Doubtful,” he said. “Hux didn’t cut his way to the top by being sloppy. He’s intelligent, thorough, and an exceptional tactician. Barring that, he delegates well. Even before taking control of the Order, the stations he managed ran like machines. I can only imagine he’s kept to the pattern.”

Ren drew up an old imagine: Hux, hair loose and falling into his eyes after nearly two cycles on the bridge. His face was gaunt, overtired, but he poured over maps like a man possessed. Some new plan for a base that his underlings had proposed, and in spite of his bone-deep weariness the man wouldn't rest until he'd picked it apart. Kylo had been in Hux's bed then, though for all the attention he received may as well have been in his own. Armitage was wed to his work, and the distraction Ren provided was second to it at every turn.

“No go, then?”

“Unfortunately. The risk outweighs any potential reward. Hux excels in establishing self-sustaining bases. Even if we leveled his highest performing one, we wouldn't hobble him. He isn’t some novice we can take out at the knees. He plans too far ahead for that.”

“What if we took him?”

Both Ren and Poe’s heads whipped around, their attention zeroing in on Finn. The man was leaning forward, elbows propped on the table. His chin rested on his knuckles and his eyes were narrowed, deep in thought.

“Come again?” Kylo asked, certain he’d misheard.

“What if we take Hux?”

There was a beat of silence in which Kylo and Dameron exchanged looks.

“Take Hux,” Kylo repeated. “What, his flagship? We’d be obliterated as soon as we came in range of his guns.”

“I know that,” Finn muttered, sounding a little annoyed. “I mean, _just_ Hux. I don’t know the guy personally, but from what I’ve heard he’s easily agitated.” Kylo couldn’t suppress a snort; that was putting it mildly. Finn ignored him and carried on. “If we played him right, maybe we could lure him out.”

“And then what? Take him out?”

Ren meant to sound skeptical, but it fell flat. What Finn was suggesting was a crack shot, a last ditch for men in more dire straits than they were. Still, knowing Armitage-- 

“I was thinking taking him prisoner,” Finn amended. “Use him as leverage, or bait if we can. They can’t do much without a leader, right?”

Beside him, Kylo felt Rey begin to shake her head. “Ben left, remember? They did fine without him.”

“Because they thought he was dead,” Finn pressed. “This would be different. If the Order saw we were strong enough to capture their leader--”

“Look,” Poe interrupted, holding up his hand for silence. “It’s not that I hate the idea. Personally, I’d love to see that laser brain behind bars. But I think we’d run into the same problem there as we would just trying to hit his flagship. Hux is smart; the bastard would see us coming a mile away.”  


Finn sighed, slumping a little in his chair in defeat. Kylo bit his lip at the sight, and cursed himself for what he was about to say.

“He might not.”

"Oh yea?" Dameron’s brow arched high. “How you figure?”

Ren swallowed, keenly aware of the hot press of eyes all around him. “Until now, Hux has been under the impression that I’m dead. If I blew cover, made it seem like I'd been captive somewhere-- make contact…”

“You can do that?”

Poe’s tone was flat, unassuming, but Kylo didn’t miss the edge to it, or how the air seemed to leak from the room. He shifted in his chair; he hadn’t particularly wanted to share that piece of information. In the beginning, he’d kept it to himself out of fear of being deemed a spy, and after-- well. His life had improved once the Resistance stopped actively associating him with the Order, and reminding them of his prior ties at every turn seemed counterproductive.

“I could try,” he said carefully. “Prior to coming here, Hux and I shared many things; private lines were one of them. I don't know if he still uses it, but I remember the code. If I patched it into the comms on Voss, which are already tuned to the flagship--”

“You might be able to get a signal out,” Dameron finished.

His eyes were bright again, the corners of his strong mouth turned up in excitement, and Kylo allowed himself to relax. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And if I can, I’m guaranteed his attention.”

Finn chuckled. “No kidding. He'd lose his mind hearing your voice. Probably think you were coming back for the throne.”

“Among other things, I’m sure.”

Finn’s head tilted at that, as did Rey and Poe’s, but Kylo didn’t expound. He was imagining Armitage’s face instead, as grainy through the feed as the gently twirling planets, twisted equally in anger and relief. Their relationship had fraught from the beginning, due both to personality clashes and Snoke’s stoking of their feuds. The former Supreme Leader disliked fraternization in the lower ranks, eternally suspicious of the plans such bonds could birth. As such, he’d pitted Ren and Hux against one another wherever he could as a precaution. It had largely worked, but Snoke couldn’t see around all corners; in the end, both Kylo and Armitage were lonely enough to risk defying him.

What would the man think, seeing him again: alive after slipping like smoke through the vents, whole and healthy. Kylo didn’t particularly want to imagine it. Though distance had lent him perspective-- their relationship was ill-advised from the start, and even had he remained with the Order it would’ve ended--, he knew that abandoning Hux had been cruel. Whatever feelings Armitage had been stewing in since would come bubbling when Kylo revealed himself, and Ren wasn’t looking forward to that.

“And you think,” Poe continued, “that it could work? That if you contacted him, you'd get him on his own?”

“Not on his own, maybe, but with a smaller team at least and off of that ship. Continuity for the Order and his personal sense of justice are Hux’s driving forces; my being alive compromises both.”

Dameron considered him, brow still knit. For one horrible, chilling moment Kylo feared the Commander would double back, demand an explanation for his knowledge. Why had Hux given him his codes? What, apart from fear of being usurped, would make Hux fly out to meet him? Thankfully, it passed. Either uninterested in the answer or too polite to pry-- despite themselves, he and Poe had grown quite civil-- the other man let it drop.

“It’s risky,” he sighed, scrubbing hard at his jaw. “For starts, it puts a target on your back. And if Hux doesn’t take the bait, our cover on Voss is blown.” He paused to cluck his tongue. “You sure you’d be up for it?”

Kylo wasn’t, but as there was no feasible alternative: “Yes, Commander.”

Poe knocked his knuckles on the table. “I’ll take it to the General, then. We’ll see if it sticks.”

Kylo spent the rest of the meeting catching his breath, fingers working circles into the worn fabric of his pants. The knees were breaking through, patched and sewn so many times now that the fibers were shaking loose. By the end of this meeting, Ren was sure there'd be a new hole to mend.

 _Stop it_ , Rey’s voice soothed, easing into his mind. He started, ripping out a few threads. _I’m the one who always has to fix it._

_I could do it myself._

She rolled her eyes. _You won’t._

She worked her hand between his and the fabric, covering the breaking threads. Grateful for something warmer to ground himself with, Kylo gave her a gentle squeeze, his own hand dwarfing hers.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She whispered aloud this time, leaning closer so as not to distract Finn from the meeting.

“The pants?”

“Hux.”

Kylo’s gut twisted, as much at her knowing lilt as the thought of sharing what’d passed between himself and Armitage. It was a secret both men had viciously protected for years, and the idea of speaking it turned his blood to sludge. But Rey wasn’t Snoke. Wasn’t an enemy of any kind. Perhaps, if she was willing--

“Later, maybe.”

Beside him Rey shifted, scooting close enough in her chair to brush shoulders. Her hand twisted, and after some negotiation he felt her fingers work between his own. With the back of her hand flat against his palm, Rey trapped his fingers with her own, holding them gently in place.

Feeling the last of his tension bleed out from the point of contact, Kylo relaxed, focusing on Poe’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know kylux isn't everyone's thing, but don't worry! It's not going to be a huge part of the story, but something from the past that factors into how Kylo feels about/proceeds with the plans.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which lost things return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the upcoming two chapters (for differing reasons) are going to be doozies, I wanted to take the time here to focus on some good ol' fashioned bonding, plus wrap up a few loose ends. I had a great time writing this and am really happy with the character's interactions; hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing!

“Do you miss him?”

Kylo tensed, pulling back from his exploration of Finn’s mind. They were close, knee to knee in the corner of a training room. Rey was with them, though only just. She’d taken the opposite corner to afford them privacy, and was hunched over the hilt of her nearly completed saber. 

When Poe adjourned the meeting earlier that day, he’d pulled the three of them aside and asked them to delay their return to Voss. He planned on taking Ren’s suggestion to the General immediately, and didn’t expect Leia’s deliberation to take more than a day. Eager as he was to leave-- six months of balmy nights had spoiled him-- Ren agreed that for expediency’s sake, waiting his mother out was the best course of action. Besides, Voss had been left in good hands, and could survive another night without them.

Rey and Finn concurred, and after settling into their quarters the three met at the entrance to the training rooms. Delighted as they were for the downtime, none of them wanted to waste it, and they planned to spend the rest of the day working together. Rey had a some tinkering left to do on her saber, and Finn had finally agreed to allow Kylo to test him. The man had let the offer lie so long that Ren had nearly forgotten it, but would honor it all the same. Finn was easy, pleasant company, and regardless of what they did or didn’t discover Kylo didn’t mind giving him his time. 

After choosing their room, the group slipped inside and set up for the afternoon. Ren adjusted the lights while Rey fussed with an ancient wall unit, trying to coax it to life. It groaned as she twisted knobs and dials, uncooperative until she grew impatient enough to kick it. It sputtered after that, spitting foul, burning dust; once the vents had cleared, however, a slow trickle of heat issued forth. Humming her victory, Rey called for Finn-- who’d chosen his corner by then and already settled onto his knees-- to join her and Ren by the heater. The other man declined, rubbing his hands over his thick pants for friction, and Rey frowned.

_What did you say to him?_ she asked, voice low at Kylo’s ear. 

_He’s just nervous._

Rey didn’t look convinced but let the issue drop, wriggling out of her coat. After digging her saber and a delicate driver from a lining pocket, she tossed the heavy fabric aside. Kylo eyed the hilt in her hand, absently wishing she’d let him see the crystal again before locking it away. She’d holed up in the barracks on Voss days ago to imbue it and hadn’t come out again until it was set. Kylo couldn’t help but wonder what color it’d turned, but he supposed he’d find out soon enough.

Muttering about tightening the outer casting, Rey retreated the the corner opposite Finn and crouched over her weapon. Leaving her to tinker, Ren took his own seat across from the other man; as he settled, Finn’s fidgeting reached a pitch. He’d been nervous before-- fiddling with the hems of his sleeves as Kylo and Rey chose a room, shifting his weight and casting glances-- but now he seemed terrified. When Ren offered to postpone the test, however, he didn’t accept. He’d agreed to it, and nerves aside was determined to see it through. 

Which was what brought them to this: Kylo sweeping Finn’s mind, seeking a wall or barrier to break against. It was Skywalker’s method, something used to identify sensitivity first in Leia, and later many of the students in his training Temple. Though Force sensitivity and subsequent abilities varied, preventing mental intrusion had proven to be a universal reflex. Without the resources or knowledge of more traditional tests, this was the surest means of identifying a sensitive. 

Provided, of course, that the person being tested didn’t sabotage the affair.

“Typically,” Ren said, skating over the question, “one doesn’t speak during this. It’s distracting.”

Finn’s mouth twisted, his closed eyes squeezing tighter. “Sorry. I’m just--” 

He broke off, but Finn’s fear was a palpable thing and it was clear enough what he’d meant to say. Kylo’s posture slacked and he receded from the other man’s mind, giving him time to collect himself. Finn’s shoulders slumped at the retreat, and he drew a shaky breath. The pitiful sound twinged Kylo with guilt.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know.” 

Finn’s voice came tight through his teeth but he held his ground, face screwed in anticipation of Ren’s return. Kylo’s gut twisted at the sight. Barring his experiences with Rey, whose mind was nearly as open to him now as his own, he’d never enjoyed this. Even in the past when he’d been tasked with interrogation, he’d made as quick a job of it as possible. To dog a person was one thing; to chase them down in the depths of their own mind was another. It was lewd, like forcing fingers down someone’s throat and feeling them gag from inside. When the participant was relaxed, a curious friend or student, it was nothing. And this, Kylo thought, should’ve been nothing. He was no jailer, and Finn was a better friend than he ever could’ve hoped. The man’s nerves had gotten the best of him, however, making this feel criminally invasive.

Hoping to ease Finn’s anxiety, Kylo doubled back. “Would talking help?”

Finn gave a stiff nod, and Kylo relented. Straightening his back again, he slipped into Finn's mind as gently as he could. The other man’s breath hitched upon reentry, but otherwise he bore it well.

“Were you asking about Hux before?”

Finn hummed, squeezing his eyes impossibly tighter. Unsure of how else to comfort him, Ren laid a hand on his knee. Finn reached for it immediately, latching on with all his strength. Kylo grunted, but didn’t pull away.

“No,” he answered, working his fingers to loosen Finn’s grip. “I don't miss him.”

“Not at all? Even in the beginning?”

Finn's voice was thin still but settled, bolstered by his hold on Ren. He was tactile like Rey, and in light of the discovery Kylo adjusted his approach. Twisting his hand, he put their palms together and laced their fingers. Finn relaxed into the contact, clenching and unclenching his fingers rhythmically. When Kylo was sure he'd adjusted he pressed on, combing back from the man's most recent memories: the smell of Rey's hair at the meeting, breakfast, a nightmare that left him sweating in his sheets. That had been about a droid-- no, a woman: gleaming, tall, and terrible. 

Ren circled back, abandoning that particular path. Dreams were unreliable territory.

“Would it matter if I had?” 

“I guess not.” 

Finn’s jaw worked and his mind bloomed open. He was thinking now, and not just of the cold press between his eyes. He blew wide, splintering from that single point: _do you miss him?_ The shift was sudden, almost staggering, as though Finn had pondered the question himself often. Curious now, and grateful for something to chase, Kylo decided to try his luck.

“I did think of him,” he confessed, and at the candor an avenue opened. _Finn in a white shell, moving through a sea of bodies. All in identical armor, but Finn had learned to read them in other ways and was looking for someone in particular. A man, dark-skinned like himself under all that white, broad and bright-eyed._ “Once or twice in the beginning, but, ah--”

Ren stumbled as the scene shifted suddenly, the memory of the hall and other Trooper clamping shut. It veered off sharply into another: shadowy figures in a void, their voices dragging like legs through water. One larger, one smaller, both sexless and indeterminate. Something out of a dream, perhaps, or from _before_. Was that possible? Ren supposed so. The facilities weren't infallible, and some memories were too deeply seated to root out.

Recovering as quickly as he could, he muddled through it, searching for a more definite thread. 

“Hux isn’t the type you miss,” he finished. “Though to his credit, I historically haven’t been either.”

“Is that why you got along?”

Kylo huffed a laugh. “To say we got along would be overly gracious. But yes, I’m sure that helped.”

Finn hummed, but didn’t press further. Kylo was grateful for that. He rarely wanted to think of Hux, and just now least of all. Finn had finally acclimated to Ren’s presence, and with his mind ripe for testing it’d be foolish to waste time.

The two of them didn’t speak again for a while, Kylo focusing on sweeping Finn’s mind and Finn, lost in his own thoughts now, cutting them both a wide path through time. Ren chased him for long minutes this way, seeking a pressure point that would trigger a block. Half an hour dragged by without one, but, it was worth noting, not without several parries.

The shadow figures and their sleepy voices kept cropping up, and at first Kylo wasn't sure how to account for them. Initially, he believed it to be a coincidence, that some underlying thread must've connected it and the memory he’d been browsing. After several more appearances, however, he began to suspect it was intentional. It only ever interrupted Finn’s memories of that specific Trooper, cutting it off before the man’s face or identification number could be determined and dumping both Kylo and Finn unceremoniously into an unrelated thought. Kylo could give chase as fast as he wanted, barrel after Finn down the familiar halls of the _Finalizer_ or cut him off in the Trooper’s quarters, but the scene always dissolved too soon. When the other Trooper drew near the room would muddy, its figures merging into two looming shadows, and whatever came next Kylo couldn’t guess.

“Was that part of your training?” he asked, abandoning both the exercise and Finn’s mind.

When Ren had fully retreated, Finn finally allowed his eyes to open. “Was what?”

“The diversion technique,” Ren clarified, untangling their hands. “Did someone at the facility teach it to you?”

The program was more advanced than he realized if so, but Kylo supposed that shouldn’t surprise him. It was, after all, Hux’s purview.

Finn shrugged. “I’ve always been able to do that.”

“You weren't instructed?” He waited for the man to shake his head before continuing. “How did you discover it, then?”

“I tried it to cover my tracks during a routine interrogation once. Don't know what made me think to try it, other than the obvious."

"Which is?"

"There are... a lot of things you don't want to be caught doing in the program.” His eyes glazed. Ren wondered if, now that he was alone, he was allowing himself to think of the other Trooper. “I don't know what I would've done if it hadn't worked, and when it did-- I guess I was too relieved to read too much into it.”

Kylo didn't fault him for that. From what he understood, reconditioning was a painful process.

“And they didn’t suspect you?”

“I never heard about it if they did.” The man’s head cocked. “Why? Is it--” He chewed his lip as if embarrassed by the thought. “Is it something?”

“Blocking and deflection are baseline abilities,” Ren said carefully. “Reliable indicators of sensitivity. It doesn't speak to potential, understand; without further training there’s no way of determining if a person can become a full-blown user.” He paused, then allowed: “But yes, it’s something.”

Finn's mouth parted almost comically. “You're not-- this isn't a joke, right?”

“Not at all,” he assured. “Though as I said, it’s not an indicator of future success. Many never progress further than this.” He stood, working the stiffness from his knees before holding a hand out for Finn. “Then again, many others do. I could help you test your limits, if you’d like.”

Finn stared at the outstretched hand, less sure of it now that his eyes were open. His own fingers twitched against his knee, scratching out an odd pattern.

“You won’t have time for that.” Finn shook his head. “Not between Rey and the mission you’ve got coming.”

“Might have coming,” Ren corrected. “It hasn't been approved yet, and as for Rey: does she seem upset today?”

Both men spared a glance to her corner. The woman was bent over her saber still, seemingly having forgotten them. Finn smiled fondly at her expression-- brow drawn, tongue peeking out from between her lips-- and shook his head.

“I won't force you,” Kylo continued, reaching further into Finn’s space. “but I'd like you to consider it.”

More than like. It was an honor to instruct in the Force in any capacity, but he wouldn’t say that. Unsure as Finn was, it'd sound disingenuous.

Finn hesitated a moment longer, then sighed and took Kylo's hand. After allowing himself to be drawn to his feet, he nodded and dusted off his knees.

“Alright,” he muttered. “I'll think about it.”

 

 

 

Finn left soon after that, dragged away by a call on his comm. Poe was on the landing pad, unloading a cargo ship that’d just touched down, and needed his hands. Finn agreed to come, and after signing off said a quick goodbye to both Kylo and Rey. The woman had just finished her saber then, and was standing to stretch her back when he wrapped her in his arms. She hugged him in turn and promised to comm before she and Kylo went to the mess.

“We’ll meet for dinner,” she said. “You can tell us all about what Kit and Delia managed to cram on that ship.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “I’m sure we don’t need half of it.”

Kylo was inclined to agree. The siblings-- who'd been part of his team on the Crul mission-- were an eccentric pair, not overly given to following instruction. Dameron would be lucky if they’d picked up half of what he requested, and if what they brought back instead was useful.

Waving to the pair of them, Finn turned and jogged from the room. Kylo waited for the door to clang shut behind him before turning his attention to Rey. The woman was still rolling tension from her shoulders when he nodded to the saber under her belt.

“Finished?”

The woman smiled thinly. “As it’ll ever be.”

“Lets see it, then.”

Kylo closed in, leaving a few feet between them for her to display the hilt. She teased it a moment, her fingers ghosting the length of it that stuck out before pulling it free. Flipping it belt ring out, she presented it like an offering. Kylo flushed, momentarily stunned by the offer, but recovered quickly. She didn’t know better, he reminded himself, had never been taught the act’s significance. Laying his hands flat against his thighs, he shook his head.

“Your saber is your life,” he said, echoing one of Skywalker’s first lessons. “There are some circumstances where you might exchange it with someone you trust, but those are the exception rather than the rule. You should really only part with it if you have no other choice.”

“You gave me yours.”

“When I was out of options, if you recall. Unless you're counting death.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have killed you.”

“Perhaps not, but I had no way of knowing that.” He crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight. “Now show me. Or are you not done arguing?”

Rey kissed her teeth, but there was no real annoyance in it. Adjusting her hold on the saber, she stepped closer to Kylo and launched into an explanation of her choices. He listened intently, eyes skating the length as she went. It was thinner than his, fitting neatly in Rey’s small hands, and covered almost entirely with a thick leather grip. The woman made that first-- brought down some poor creature for its skin and left it to tan--, then trimmed and sewed it in place once the kyber was set. A slit had been cut and peeled back to expose the activator, which sat like a black stone in the leather. The rest of the exposed metal was dull, some panels of it mismatched. Though she’d done her best to match colors, it was clear by looking that Rey had cobbled it from scraps. All considered, however, she’d done wonderfully. Kylo doubted he’d have had her patience.

“How does it feel in your hand?”

She made a fist around it, the new leather creaking in her palm. 

“Good,” she whispered, tongue darting out to wet her dry lips. “Excellent, actually.”

Kylo hummed. “All that’s left is to test the activator, then. Are you ready?”

Rey's cheeks lost color. This was what had delayed her: the possibility of having somehow gone wrong, of pressing the activator of her lovingly crafted hilt to no effect. 

“Yea,” she muttered, sounding wholly unconvinced. “Alright.”

She adjusted her hold again, turning its nose to the floor. After angling to account for the length of the blade, she took a few steps back, clearing Ren by several more feet. She muttered something again, this time too quietly for Kylo to hear, then, holding her breath, pressed the black button before her resolve could flag.

The smell came first: a chemical stench of ozone running out ahead of a light that tore more so than ignited. Rey’s breath caught and her eyes flew open, darting to the laser as if she could possibly have been mistaken; as if anything else in the galaxy made a sound like that. She stared, jaw slack, at the blade, alone with it for all the notice she took of Kylo then. Ren didn’t mind. He was staring too, caught like a bug in the buzzing, pale light. He’d almost call it blue, were the pigment not so thin. It seemed only to be shot through with color, like the backlit ice of a cave.

Rey dragged him from the thought with a sharp, clear laugh. Her face split in a grin, she twirled the saber, tracking the long sweep of light in its wake. If she noticed the nose of it occasionally catching the floor, she didn’t care.

“I can’t believe it,” she said, her voice pitching at the end. “I was sure-- I just _knew_ I’d ruined it.” 

She laughed again, light glinting off her teeth. She looked fae, as terrible in her exuberance as a child. When she flourished the saber again, her swing a touch too wide, Kylo stepped back to be safe.

“What was it you said?” he teased, her infectious mood creeping into his boots. “Something about blaming me if it was hideous.”

Rey looked to him finally, eyes alight. “Quiet; I’ve got something better than a stick to hit you with now.” In spite of the threat, she let the blade arc down. “Are you sure you don’t want to hold it?”

Kylo’s heart fluttered, but he staved the desire off. 

“Exchanging sabers is more intimate than I think you realize. I’d rather you understand the gravity of the offer before making it again. Besides--” He gestured to the blade in her hand. “--it needs time to bond with you. Give it up too soon, and you run the risk of never mastering it.”

Rey considered him, eyes keen in the crackling light. After a few beats she pressed the activator again, powering down her new blade, and tucked the hilt back into her belt. She winced when the burning end touched her-- Kylo made a note to braid an attachment for her belt--, and sucked the spot before addressing him again.

“Then let me give you something else.”

Kylo’s mouth went dry. The last time she’d said that-- but the woman didn’t lean in to kiss him. She paced by him, crouching by the far wall to rifle through her coat. He turned to watch, head tilted curiously. She’d meant it, then, though what she planned on giving him or why he couldn’t guess. The hot press of Rey’s mouth had been thanks enough for the kyber, both the first and the smattering of others that’d followed in the ensuing months. After that, she’d worked alone. He’d given her nothing but advice since, which hardly merited thanks. They were partners, and exchange of ideas was to be expected.

Rey dug through the fabric a moment longer, her face lighting when her fingers hit home.

“What is it?” Kylo asked.

“Something I’d hoped to give you sooner,” she said, working her way to the floor. She left her hand in the coat, concealed even as she sat up her knees. “But I only just got it back, myself. Come here.”

Ren obeyed, crossing the room in a few strides and dropping to his knees. She waited patiently as he adjusted, not speaking again until he’d settled in front of her. Even then she faltered, her mouth opening and closing several times as she chose her words.

“When you first landed here,” she began slowly, carefully. “I asked you to trust me. I know how hard it must’ve been; if it’d been reversed, I--” She bit her lip, redirecting. “My point is: it would’ve been easier to fight, or to run when you saw those men, but you chose to trust me instead.”

She paused to arrange her thoughts, and Kylo felt the blood run out of his hands. He looked to her coat, letting his eyes linger on the spot where her hand melted into the fabric. What did she _have_?

“Rey--” he began, but she held up her free hand for silence.

“Let me finish.” Kylo’s jaw clamped shut, and she continued. “I can’t match what you did, but I’ve tried. I’ve done everything I can to prove to you that you made the right choice, and I hope you believe that.” 

She cleared her throat, covering a crack, and Ren bit his tongue; stupidly, childishly, he nodded that yes, he knew, he believed, but just now the floor felt like sand beneath his knees. His nails dug into it, scratching for an anchor.

“That being said,” she continued, “I know there’s only one way to really repay you. You put your life in my hands; I want to give it back.”

Kylo suppressed a shudder as his gut turned, feeling weak and cruelly roused. He wanted to beg her to end this, tell her he’d be sick if she didn’t, but couldn’t bring himself to speak. Thankfully, however, she was finished, and having either heard the thought or guessed it pulled her hand free. She lifted it, displaying her gift: his saber, unharmed and whole and clean as the day he’d surrendered it, its crossguard shadowing her knuckles. 

The sight punched the breath from him. Fingers still numb, he reached out mechanically and plucked the saber from her hand. Their fingers brushed as Rey released it, and she tucked her hands under herself as Ren pulled it closer.

“Where--” he broke, cleared his throat. “Where did you get this?”

“From Poe. I don’t know where he hid it, but he gave it back this morning when he took me outside before the meeting.”

So that’s what they’d done. Kylo had wondered.

He was silent for a while, content to turn his saber over as the floor beneath him solidified once more. He picked over each detail, reacquainting himself with the cold metal. That observation alone was strange, because when had it ever been that? His saber was always hot, warmed either by his fist or the pulsing blade. Now, however, it was as cool as the first day he’d held it.

Before he’d rarely parted with it, both for safety and comfort. It was a labor of his hands, his only true possession and friend when the Knights were away. He’d passed many nights tinkering with the exposed circuits, or tracking its lagging light through the air. He’d cut and soldered and killed with it; more than once, he’d even imagined it was a great, burning candle, picturing Leia’s covered face in the glow. It was a lifeline, personal and sacred, with a history as messy as Ren’s own. He’d hoped that it’d be returned-- how could he not?-- but had never truly expected it. The blade was a terror, both for the Resistance and the galaxy at large; that Dameron hadn’t destroyed it was nothing short of miraculous. And now, for Rey to give it back…

“Ben?” the woman whispered. He tore his eyes from the hilt and saw her brow was drawn tight. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, swallowing his pooling spit.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “I didn’t expect-- thought I’d have to…”

He trailed off, unsure of what he'd meant to say. Expected what: that he’d have to make another? Where would he have gotten the kyber? It was a rare commodity these days, and more than a little difficult to procure.

“It’s yours,” Rey said, picking up for him. “And you should have it. You made it, fought with it--”

“Killed Han Solo with it,” Ren interrupted.

Nearly cut Finn in half with it, would’ve driven it through Skywalker’s belly if the man hadn’t been bent on denying him the pleasure. But he didn’t say either of those things, shouldn’t have even said the first. Neither of them had broached that topic in months, Rey flinched now at the fresh sting.

“That doesn’t have to be its legacy,” she said sharply. “Or yours.”

Kylo grimaced, tightening his hold enough for the curve of the crossvent to dig into this thumb. Perhaps she was right, though personally he couldn’t imagine Leia ever looking at the saber without tasting blood.

“You can’t change what happened,” Rey continued, voice softer now, guessing the thought. “But you don’t have to make the same mistakes. And you haven’t been. You’ve done well, and you'd do even better if you let yourself heal.”

Kylo’s frown deepened. He wanted to deny it, say he’d done his healing, but knew it’d ring false. How often had he dreamt of Han-- the smell of him seared by a saber or his old body crumpling in freefall--, or seen Luke’s shadow in empty corners? They loomed still, so near and terrible that Ren wondered if he’d ever sleep alone again, or if they’d always hang just above his bed.

“Have you considered that you might have to much faith in me?”

“No.” Rey said the word so resolutely that Ren felt crushed. “You’ve had a dozen chances to go back and you haven’t taken one. You’ve proven yourself, Ben, and I--” Her voice snagged, and whatever she’d meant to say she swallowed. “I trust you with my life.”

Kylo bit his lip to submission, preempting its tremble. He looked from the hilt in his lap to the one in Rey’s belt, up again to her dark eyes. They were unwavering, but not unkind. A little stern perhaps, but lacking none of their usual warmth. Kylo stared into them a while, gathering his strength, then laid a hand carefully over his heart.

“I won’t fail you.”

Rey’s mouth twitched at the corners, and she mirrored the gesture. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Force-sensitive Finn& the sappy concordance of fealty trope are both too good for this world.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kylo lays the bait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than I expected, but in my defense, there was a lot to fit in. There were a few character interactions I wanted to hit on before moving to the main event, and I couldn't stand to leave any of it out.
> 
> I'm still not sure how I feel about this; there's been a lot of downs in my personal life this week, and I almost didn't make my update. I also did that thing where I stared at this so long that I ended up hating it lol. Still, I'm glad it's up and posted, and am extremely happy with the progress the story has been making!
> 
> Hope y'all like it, and as always: let me know what you think.

As Dameron predicted, Leia's decision didn't take long.

The morning after the meeting, Kylo was woken by a knock to his door. It was perfunctory, more habit than request, because before Ren could prop himself up on his elbows he heard the beep of someone entering the code. He snorted, but didn’t protest. Whoever it was, they couldn’t be stopped now, and besides: he wasn’t indecent. Nights on Belsavis were even colder than he remembered; he hadn’t even bothered taking off his boots before crawling into bed.

He fell back against the headboard, rubbing bleariness from his eyes as the visitor let themselves in. When the door slid open with a whine against its frame, he winced and shut his eyes.

“Why bother knocking if you're going to let yourself in anyway?” he grumbled, expecting Finn. 

Of all who'd called on him here, Finn had always been the most bold. Even in Ren's early days the man had come as he pleased, and his morning intrusions were worst of all. Finn wasn't unkind when he woke him, but his sickly cheer was offensive all the same. Kylo hadn't been in any position to complain then; now, however--

“Still not a morning person, I see.”

Kylo winced again, this time at the teasing warble of the voice. Not Finn's, though it was something he’d said, but Leia's. Of course.

“General,” he greeted, scrubbing under his eyes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Nothing worth getting up for, if that's what you're wondering.” She held up a hand to halt him as he worked free of the blanket. “Stay. It's early.”

Kylo narrowed his eyes-- what merited an early call, but wasn't urgent enough for him to get out of bed?-- but didn't argue. When dealing with Leia it was best to follow orders, a fact Kylo found himself less resentful of these days. The reality of her was fairer than memory, though he supposed age might have something to do with that. His own had certainly settled him.

Smoothing out his thermal blanket, he settled against the headboard and looked to the General expectantly. She was still hovering in the door, waiting to be invited in. Ren checked a roll of his eyes, though only just, because what was the point of that now? She’d already overriden his code. Still, if the pleasantry pleased her he’d oblige.

“Would you like to sit?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep.

With a polite incline of the head, Leia abandoned her place in the door. It was slow work. The deep morning cold cemented her joints, and she leaned more heavily on her cane than usual. Its foot scuffed the floor as she went, the scrape grating in the otherwise silent room. Kylo’s gut twisted and he lowered his gaze, picking at his blanket as she crossed. Imposing as she was, it was easy to forget that Leia was old.

“Is there--” He paused, clearing his throat. “Isn’t there something you can take?”

Her laugh was more breath than sound as she motioned for Ren to make room. He pressed to the wall, and she lowered herself slowly before answering.

“For being old?” Her laugh pittered out, and she reached to lay her cane across Kylo’s desk. Her stretch was as lacking as her walk and Ren took it from her, pushing it more securely onto the surface. “There’s only one cure for that.”

“I meant your pain.”

“We get what we can on cargo runs, but it doesn’t always work out. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Voss is more central,” he said, though while that was technically true it hardly mattered. It was still a dot in the Outer Rim, but had at least been functional base. Far flung though it was, the Order had ensured its medical wing was well stocked. Surely there’d be something to dose out for her there. “And warmer, besides. A temperate climate would do you well.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “But I’m not here to talk about that.”

“What, then?”

She settled deeper into the bed, balancing with a hand on his covered knee. “Poe told me your plan.”

“Finn's, really,” Kylo added. “I only amended it.”

“Your part of the plan, then.” She breathed in deeply through her nose. “I don't think I need to tell you how much like a crack shot it sounds.”

She didn't. Kylo had the thought himself at the meeting, but still--

“I can do it.”

“I don't doubt your skill. I just want to be sure you volunteered for the right reason.”

Kylo's brow quirked, and Leia clucked her tongue.

“I know you, Ben. You don't make friends when you can help it, especially not with men like Hux.” Her fingers flexed, scrunching the blanket tenting his knees. “Which is why I'm having trouble understanding this private line.”

Oh. At the edge of his mind, Kylo felt the slow creep of dread. He didn't want to talk about this or even admit it, and to his mother least of all. Sharing it with Rey had been miserable enough.

“We weren't friends,” he said, and that was true. Even in their throes, he and Armitage had been civil at best. “But we were co-commanders, and he later my highest ranking subordinate. We needed--”

“Privacy?” Leia interrupted. “Something tells me Snoke wouldn't have approved.”

“No,” Kylo answered honestly. There was little point in denying that. “He wouldn't have.”

While other private lines and had been approved and subsequently tapped for Snoke to monitor, the privilege was doled out sparingly. Given how he stoked animosity between the two, Kylo knew that his and Hux's wouldn't have been allowed.

“But you set it up anyway.” 

“Yes.”

“Without telling him?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes darted between his, and Kylo did his best to hold her gaze. Leia’s full attention was daunting at the best of times, and here, caught under his covers like a child, Ren didn’t feel his best.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

Ren chewed his tongue, unsure of what to say. “Don’t you want him?”

“Of course I do.” Something hot and hungry flared in her eyes then. Was she imagining Armitage, beating himself against the bars of a cell? Kylo wouldn’t be surprised. “But there are other angles we could try first. An open attack--”

“We won't get near his ship,” Kylo interrupted.

“We’ve done it before.”

Kylo scoffed. If she was talking about Dameron’s bombing run, she was only proving his point. 

“And lost how many men in the process?”

Leia’s mouth hardened, a bit of color popping in her cheeks. An old tell of anger, something Han used to tease her for to escalate their arguments. But Kylo had never been so bold, and even if he were he wouldn’t employ it now. Leia valued the lives of her men more highly than her own, and Ren regretted his flippancy.

“My point is,” she continued after collecting herself, “there are things to bait him with besides your heart.”

Was that an accusation? Kylo wasn't sure. His nails dug into the blanket, and he wished rather childishly that'd she’d have let him stand. He wanted to pace, to work out the tension mounting in his thighs, or at least not be trapped between the General and the wall.

This was why he hadn’t wanted to reveal himself. Rey had taken it in stride-- hadn’t pressed as he gave his stilted account of the affair, and vowed her silence without him having to ask-- and Finn, for all he’d guessed, had as well. Beyond them, Kylo knew better than to expect understanding. Dameron had warmed to him, but so much of that territory was still uncharted. Their truce hung by threads, and Ren didn’t dare risk it by admitting too much. 

As for Leia: he didn’t begrudge her reservation. She was the General first, his mother second, and he’d disappointed her on both fronts before. They’d done well by each other since his return, however, and he _had_ hoped he’d proven himself to her by now.

“He means nothing to me,” Kylo said, voice level but firm. “And he doesn't hold sway over my heart.” 

There was one who did, and she was likely still abed down the hall. And wasn’t that a thought?

Rey had worked beneath his skin, sunk her barbs so surely that Ren doubted he could cut himself free now. Not that he particularly wanted to. Everything about the woman was at once a comfort and a challenge; whether they were studying, leading drills, or stealing fumbled, open kisses, Kylo relished their time together. And though they hadn’t discussed it, the feeling seemed to be mutual. 

She’d grown softer with him. Not deferential-- Kylo doubted she could ever be that-- but tender. She touched him freely: trussed his hair, batted his chest, dozed on his shoulder between training sessions. Even at meetings, her hands kept busy. She tapped his knee, mapped the calluses on his palms, leaned in to whisper against the shell of his ear. It was odd at first; Kylo had never been a public person, and the attention Rey drew stacked on his chest like stones.After acclimating, however, he'd even come to enjoy it. Her touch was an anchor, and colored their team's perception of him besides. Even the sternest Resistance members had warmed to him, and Ren knew he had Rey’s favor to thank.

“I believe you,” Leia assured, interrupting the thought. “But I want you to listen carefully.” Scooting further up the bed, she abandoned her hold on his knee and took him by the hand. The tremble of age was stronger there, and Kylo grimaced, slipping free to cover hers instead. “Regardless of what you feel, baiting with emotion isn’t easy. Often it--”

The General paused, her brow scrunching in memory. Kylo wondered what she ghost she saw, but didn't ask. Leia’s life, both before and between Han, had been full. There was enough misery in her for three women, but this wasn’t the time to air it out. Giving her hand a squeeze, he kept his silence and waited.

“Dragging up old things is messy,” she continued. “And it can hurt you just as easily as him.” Kylo made to protest, but Leia cut him off. “Take it from someone with experience: nothing can prepare you for how he’ll look when he recognizes the trap.”

Kylo tongued the backs of his teeth, imagining Hux’s dour mouth twisted in a snarl. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because I don’t want you to do it if it’s just an attempt to prove yourself. You’ve done that already. Not everyone is as _forgiving_ as Rey--” Her mouth quirked and Kylo felt a treacherous heat work up his neck. “But no one would accuse you of harboring sympathy. There’s no sense in opening a wound for an already made point. Can you tell me honestly that isn't what you're doing?”

Kylo thumbed the back of his mother’s hand, chewing his words. It wouldn’t do to misspeak now, not with a mission hanging in the balance. 

“If we keep our course,” he said carefully, “the best we can hope for is stasis, and I don’t want that. Not for myself, or you, or Rey. We need to make progress, and this could be how.” He paused, gnawing his lip. “I just want to help. Let me.”

Leia was silent for a long moment, eyes tracking between his. Kylo held firm, making mindless letters on the back of her hand as she took his measure, and willed himself not to double back. When she was satisfied, she pulled free and took him by the wrist. She thumbed his pulse and tugged, urging him to lean forward. He obeyed, allowing her to draw him close and press a kiss to his brow.

“Wake Rey when you’re ready,” she said after pulling back. “I’ll have the dock men prep your ship.”

 

 

 

It was nearly noon before Kylo and Rey boarded the ship to Voss. Once the woman was awake, they spent the morning toggling between Dameron and Finn, both who insisted on accompanying them for the mission. Never one to resist pulling rank, Poe won his spot aboard quickly. Finn, however, had to fight.

“We’ll be sending everyone back anyway,” Kylo said, attempting to sway him. “The Knights will stay to help neutralize any forces Hux brings, but otherwise--”

“I can help with that,” Finn interrupted, patting the blaster on his hip. “You know I’m a good shot.”

That was true. Finn was an excellent marksman, but skill had little to do with it. 

Confidence in his abilities aside, Ren was acutely aware of how wrong this mission could go. Even if Hux didn’t suspect a trap, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t rain a fleet’s worth of bombs down on Voss after learning he was there. If Armitage’s claim to power was as flimsy as the Knights said, it was likely he’d view Ren's return as a threat 

“It isn't safe.”

Finn frowned. “None of our missions have been.”

“Granted, but this--” Ren sighed. “Hux has overreacted before. I don’t want to bet your life on the hope that he won’t now.”

“But you’ll bet yours and Rey’s,” Finn muttered. “And you expect me to wait around, hoping you don’t get blown out of space?” The man shook his head. “That’s not happening.”

And much to Kylo’s dismay, it didn’t. Finn was resolute, and though Ren argued he couldn’t be persuaded. He barreled through Kylo where he stood in the door, pushing the larger man aside with an unexpected strength. By the time Kylo regained footing the man was already in his seat, blocked by Rey and their stacked bags.

Kylo scoffed, but didn’t try to extricate him. They’d wasted enough time already. 

With Dameron piloting, the flight to Voss went quickly. They touched down as it was nearing dawn, but didn’t wake anyone. The flight had exhausted them, and after securing the ship they went to bed. There were several hours still before morning bell, and none of them could resist the lure of their blankets. 

They slept soundly until the bell chimed, wrenching them from their dreams. More miserable for the stilted sleep than they would’ve been waiting out the night, they shuffled from the barracks and into the mess. By the time they arrived it was alive with the base’s other inhabitants, all who’d slept well enough to hop out of bed. Grimacing at the noise, Poe abandoned them in the door and hurried in line for caf.

The Knights, apparently having seen the group enter, caught their attention a moment later. From the back of the mess Anat gave a sharp whistle, signalling for them to weave through and join. When they reached it, Finn and Kylo took the seats at the table’s head; Rey, to the annoyance of several of the women, clambered over their laps to join Anat.

While Anat plied Rey with with caf, Lotti took Kylo and Finn. She pushed her half-finished plate between them, motioning for them to eat. After giving the men time to lick it clean, she passed them her still steaming caf and pressed for details about the meeting. Finn and Kylo took telling it in turns, each sipping the watery brew gratefully when the other cut in. Lotti was controlled as ever, and though her eyes blew wide at the first mention of the plan, she held her questions until their story ended.

“Hux is a smart man, Kylo,” she said carefully, “Don’t you think he’ll suspect you?”

Kylo took another swig of caf, swishing it between his teeth before swallowing.

“It’s a risk,” he allowed. “But more likely to yield results than anything else we’ve tried. We can’t tug his braids forever.”

Lotti looked as though she wanted to argue, but was cut short by a static blast from Finn’s pocket. Startling, the man fished a comm from his shirt and buzzed back. It was Poe, asking them to round off their breakfast and meet him by the control room. He was ready to call everyone into the courtyard and begin evacuation. After agreeing to meet, Finn made quick work of signing off and stuffed the comm back into his pocket.

“Ready?” he asked, downing the last of the caf.

Rey nodded over the lip of her own cup, then climbed over the laps of the Knights again to get free. Kylo stood to clear her path, instructing the women to hang back after announcements.

“Help load the ships if you’re asked, but don’t board. I need all of you here.”

After waiting for Lotti to nod her assent, Kylo guided his companions by the shoulders, weaving them through the crowd once more. 

As they made their way to the control room, he did his best ignore the anxious thrum of the Knight’s at his back, and not to think of how Lotti’s face had cracked when she heard the plan.

 

 

Even with the help of the Knights, it took the better part of the day for base to be evacuated. 

By the time the final ship lifted off, the sun was dipping low, filtering in thin rays through the trees. Even then, there was work left to do. Those left behind split into teams, clearing base of signs of Resistance occupation. The remaining ships were dragged into forest, the barracks and washrooms stripped of linens and personal effects. Everything that could be was stuffed away, hidden in closets and utility rooms to give the illusion of abandonment. The Knights had made quite a show of clearing base, after all; if more than the huts seemed occupied, Hux's suspicion would be piqued.

While the teams scoured base, Kylo locked himself in the control room and began fussing with the call panel. It was more complex than the one on Belsavis, and it took him several minutes to input Hux’s code. Even has he typed the numbers he wasn’t sure, both of the bulky panel and the plan. What if the code had been scrapped or recycled? If Armitage was no longer using it, there was nothing to stop another staff member from claiming the sequence. 

Ren swallowed, banishing the pointless anxiety. If Hux had abandoned the line, there nothing to do but admit defeat. If someone else responded-- well. Ren would deal with that issue when it arose.

When the screen flashed green, signalling that the code was still active and receiving transmissions, Ren sat and prepared to type. He hovered over the keys, casting for something suitable, eventually settling on: _Hux?_

The screen didn’t have time to go dark before a reply whirred through. _Who is this?_

Kylo’s breath caught. _Is this Hux?_

_Yes. Who is this?_

Ren ignored the question. _Prove it._

 _On my own line? Absolutely not._ Kylo snorted; that was almost proof enough. _Don’t make me ask again._

He hesitated, fingers ghosting the keys. It wouldn’t do to answer outright. Similar tone aside, there’d been no real confirmation that this was Hux, and revealing himself to anyone else would be disastrous. Kylo thought for a while, rifling for something personal. 

_Do you still dream of drowning?_ He tried after a while, calling up a memory of a horrible night: Hux thrashing in his sleep, catching Kylo’s nose with an erratic, frightful swing. It was recurring nightmare, he’d explained later, wiping blood from Ren’s face. Something that’d chased him from childhood. _Or have you been taking your sedatives?_

Several minutes passed with no response, long enough for the screen to shade and go totally dark. Kylo frowned. Perhaps that’d been too wide a field. Hux was far from virginal when they met. Kylo couldn’t have been the first he'd pummeled out of sleep. Waking the screen, Ren wracked his memory for something better.

The screen flash once, twice, three times, cycling shades of green as an alert scrolled its width: **Incoming visual transmission. Tap to receive.** Kylo watched it loop for several seconds before kicking into gear. He hadn't expected the man to cave so quickly, would've prepared first if he had-- but it was too late now. Stripping down to his filthy undershirt, Ren ruffled his hair and smeared sweat from his belly on to his face before tapping the screen.

When Armitage’s face came into view, Kylo didn’t have to feign shortness of breath. The sight of him, scowling and wan, sucked the air from the room. There was a pulsing, heady silence in which Hux’s eyes swept him. He traced his nose, exposed shoulders, and the long line of his scar, searching for tells of a fraud. When he found none, his eyes blew wide.

“It _is_ you,” he hissed, sounding robbed of breath himself.

“Yes,” Kylo said, a little dumbly.

Hux went slack at the sound, falling back from the screen. The ease, however, was short lived. He took three deep, shuddering breaths, then his brow drew tight. His eyes, when they reopened, were ablaze, and even in the grainy feed Kylo could see his jaw muscle jump.

“You pig,” he spat, so viscerally that Ren could imagine the slick of it. “Vile, gutless, mistake of nature.”

“Armitage--”

“Don’t,” the man interrupted, recoiling from the familiarity. “Don’t you dare.”

Kylo clamped his mouth shut, lowering his gaze to appease the man. An old trick, one that had never failed to stroke Hux’s pride. Today, however, it fell flat. Armitage scoffed, the noise like static through the feed, and began muttering in its wake.

“Two years,” he said, a little dazed. “Do you know-- do you realize--” He broke off, running a trembling hand through his hair. It was loose, falling into his eyes in stringy, unkempt locks. It must have been late, or else Armitage had grown less fastidious. “Gone, like some beast in the night. No explanation, no word for two _years_.”

It hadn’t quite been two, but Kylo wouldn’t correct him. There was no sense in goading the man when he was already incensed. He kept his head low, opting instead to wait Hux out; true to form, the man didn’t keep him long.

“Everyone thought-- I thought-- and now...” He barked a cold, humorless laugh. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” A pause, just long enough for Kylo to realize Hux expected an answer, then the crack of the other man’s fist against his desk. “Wipe that miserable look off your face, Ren, or I swear--”

“Has it really been that long?” Kylo interrupted, seizing on the thought. It was as good a springboard as any.

“Don’t be obtuse. You know it has.”

“No, actually.”

Hux tripped over the words, momentarily stunned. He looked Kylo over more critically, then-- his disheveled hair, the filthy clothes and streaks of grime-- and some of his heat banked.

“What do you mean, 'no’? Where have you been?”

“I don’t know. I-- would you let me explain?”

Hux, who’d rolled his eyes and began grumbling again, fell silent at that. Mouth a grim line, he settled back into his chair and folded his arms. He looked horrible, thin and weary. Picking at the fringe of his greatcoat-- a new habit that’d ruin his rank marks if he weren’t careful-- and nodded begrudgingly for Kylo to continue.

Ren delayed, making a show of knitting his brows. If this was going to work he’d need to be careful, and more than that: convincing. Hux had caught him in a lie more than once, and Kylo didn’t like the idea of that happening now.

“I didn’t mean to disappear,” he began, and though Hux snorted he otherwise didn’t interrupt. “The night I left, I...heard something. Something calling from outside the ship. A woman.”

“A woman,” Hux repeated dryly. “A woman asked you to leave the ship.”

Ren barely checked a snarl. Hux was as unceremonious as ever. 

“Don’t be obtuse,” he scolded, mirroring the man’s words. “I sensed her energy, her stamp in the Force.”

“Who? That sand rat?”

“Yes,” Kylo confirmed, frown deepening. “The signal was strong, but unguided. Scattered as it was, I knew it’d take work to track, but…” He paused to brush hair from his eyes. “I thought if I headed her off, caught her unawares, I could end it. All of it.”

Hux’s brow quirked. “And how did that go?”

“I did find her, but she wasn’t alone. Skywalker taught her more than I expected. The signal was a trap, and when I landed--” He cleared his throat, imagining the soldiers awaiting him at Belsavis: stony-eyed and melting in white, their weapons trained between his eyes. “I was miserably outgunned.”

Armitage’s expression lost its grim humor. He leaned forward now, elbows propping on the desk his screen rested on. Had he done that before? Kylo couldn't remember, but it seemed too crass a stance. In memory Hux was straight-backed, neatly wrapped, the slick sweep of his hair as gleaming as his beetle black boots. An image of pride and uncompromising self-care; an image totally at odds with the present, haggard reality.

“You were taken prisoner,” Hux guessed. “Where? Could you tell?” Kylo shook his head, and Hux, seemingly unaware of himself, mirrored it. “No, I don’t suppose they’d let you look around.” Hux blew out a breath, scrubbing viciously at the skin below his eyes. “Well, that explains the filth at least.”

Kylo frowned, his nose scrunching at the insult. Hux winced in response, having registered his own words too late.

“I apologize,” he said, sounding genuinely contrite. “I didn't mean it. I’m just--” Hux cussed, scrubbing hard at the stubble on his jaw. After taking a moment to collect himself, he redirected. “Why didn’t they kill you?”

“It wouldn't have done any good. How many leads have you gotten from corpses, General?”

"Grand Marshal." The correction came quick, and Kylo wondered how often Hux still had to make it. Dragging his fingers up his cheeks, the man rubbed the bruises beneath his eyes, peering over the tips distrustfully. “What do you mean?”

“They gave me something, now and then. An injection. I don’t know what of what.” Kylo swallowed; this, too, would be an easy lie. “It made me sick and weak, and a man would come after to--” 

He swallowed hard, tasting bile, and Hux’s face went slack.

“Did he interrogate you?” He waited for Ren to nod before continuing. "To some effect, I assume." 

Kylo chewed the tip of his tongue, wetting his eyes. “I didn’t want to.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Armitage's voice leveled off, more gentle than it’d been all evening. “But even with your gifts, there’s no resisting skirtopanol.” Hux cussed. “It makes sense now. Some of their targets were so backwater; I couldn’t guess how they’d discovered them.”

“There were attacks?”

Hux wetted his lips. “Inconveniences, more like, though some admittedly more troublesome than others.”

Diplomatic, Ren thought, though he supposed this was Hux taking pity. The man knew interrogation drugs intimately.

“I’m too late, then,” Kylo said, affecting defeat. “I hoped I'd escape before--”

“How'd you manage that?”

Ren fumbled the question, but recovered quickly. “They hadn’t drugged me in a while-- they had what they needed, I supposed-- and without it my strength returned. I managed to rend my cell, take out a few guards, steal off with a ship. I couldn’t guess where yours was, but I remembered the coordinates for Voss and set my course by them.”

“You're on Voss?” Hux’s remaining color drained, and in the green glow he now seemed bloodless. “Are your Knights there?”

 _Oh_. Kylo hesitated. He hadn’t forgotten Kish’s death, but long months had muddied the details. For Hux, however, the ordeal seemed fresh. Ren wondered if he could still smell her blood on his coat.

“Their huts seem recently occupied, but their trace is a week old at least. Why? Should they be?”

Armitage shrugged, trying for casual, but his throat worked like a vice. “I only wondered if you were alone.”

“I am.” He paused, mouth parted, panting out a breath. “I know I don't have a right to ask--” Hux breathed his name, scenting danger, but Kylo pressed on. “But I just want to come home. If you could send for me--”

“Ren,” Hux repeated, forcefully enough to silence him. “I told everyone you were _dead_. When your escort saw you, filthy and deposed, what would they think?”

"If I told them--"

"What?" Hux scoffed. "That their Leader was taken prisoner by an untrained tramp? Morale would tank, at best, and at worst..." The man shook his head. "It'd be chaos, Ren. I can't allow it."

“Come yourself, then.”

“What?”

“Bring your personal ship,” he continued, low and furtive, pressing nearer to the screen. “Smuggle me on board. Let me into your rooms and I swear not to leave.”

Hux stared, momentarily dumbfounded. “That's no better than prison.”

“No?” Kylo asked. “A bed, a shower, company?” He said the last word slowly, testing the roll of it on his tongue. “How much of that do you think I've had?”

“You’re not a pet, Ren. I can’t keep you.”

“But you could leave me here?” Hux swallowed, averting his eyes, and Ren felt his fingers catch at something solid. “Armitage, please. Haven’t you missed me?”

The man didn’t meet his gaze again, but his throat worked and he allowed himself a slow, single nod.

“Me too,” Kylo said, counting it a victory. “Terribly.”

For a long while, the only sound through the line was the high hitch of Hux’s breath. The man kept his eyes low as he considered, but his hands betrayed him. They dug at the table like claws, blunted nails scraping, inching toward the screen as though he longed to stroke it.

“You couldn’t leave,” he said finally, snapping the tension. “Not for a moment; not even to peek out the door. Do you understand that?”

“Keep me well enough, and I won’t want to.”

It wasn’t a joke, but it snapped the tension and Hux laughed all the same. The sound was short, clipped, like Kylo had torn it out of him.

“After you’ve showered, perhaps.” He bit his lip, sharp teeth digging cruelly. “I, ah, need time.”

Kylo’s gut dropped. Surely not. “Hux, please--”

“To prepare,” he amended. “My ship needs fuel, and I’ll have to make some excuse for the absence.”

“How long?”

Hux drummed the table. “Can you hold out for two days?”

Kylo hummed his assent.

“Good. Excellent.” A beat of silence, then: “I should go.”

Hux's hand stopped short of the disconnector. Hovering over it, held Ren’s gaze, eyes strange in the light of the feed.

“Two days,” he repeated, more to himself than Kylo. “Keep an eye on the horizon, and stay out of sight.”

Kylo nodded, and Hux’s mouth parted, his tongue peaking out between the folds. He seemed on the cusp of something, but bit it back a moment later, clicking his jaw shut with hideous resolve. Then the feed cut, taking Hux with it, leaving only the man’s fizzling outline as a trace. 

Kylo collapsed into the command chair, hands drawn in tight fists, and watched the electric lines fade out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate description: in which Hux crumbles like a warm cookie.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kylo and Rey blow off steam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm sure you guessed (either by the sudden rating change or like, the six new tags), this chapter is where we finally get smutty ;) I haven't written smut in ages, so I had a great time working this out, and hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. I figured it'd be nice for all of us to have a bit of calm before next update's storm, and for Ben and Rey to work up a more enjoyable sweat.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think, and thanks!

“I’m sorry to say,” Kylo teased, pressing the end of his practice staff to Rey's chest, “but I think you're getting worse.”

The woman kissed her teeth, glaring up from where he’d pinned her to the training pad. “Am not.”

“No?” He dragged the staff up, letting it come to rest in the hollow of her throat. Gooseflesh broke in its wake, and Kylo allowed himself a moment to admire the pebbling before continuing. “How many pins does that make: three?” 

Rey’s eyes shaded, darkening with frustration and something else. Some other burn Kylo couldn’t place, threaded so neatly through agitation that he wondered if she’d even noticed it herself.

They’d been on the training pad for hours now, drawn from their studies in Ren’s hut by the cool afternoon air. Voss’ summer had finally fizzled out, taking the beating heat that’d cut previous sparring sessions short with it. Were base at capacity the rings would’ve been booked well into evening, but for now Rey and Kylo had their pick. Evacuation had all but drained camp of life, and today it was desolate. Finn and Poe were holed up in the control room, having agreed to monitor for transmissions from Hux, and even the Knights were gone. The women had risen early, dressed and ventured into the woods before Kylo had even begun to stir. They left a note in the mess promising to return before dark, and Kylo knew better than to expect them a moment sooner. 

Loathe to waste the privacy and clement weather, Kylo and Rey abandoned their books to spend the day outdoors. They’d only just cracked them after breakfast, but he didn’t consider it a loss. Rey had kept his nose to them the day before: reading passages aloud, looking over her notes, even goading him into debates over fragmented scripture. Grateful as he was for the distraction-- which it was, because Rey had dragged him from bed to begin, refusing to let him… how had she said it? _Mope for two days_ \-- it’d been mentally exhausting. The breeze through his window had come like a boon, and if Rey hadn’t suggested putting the books down he’d have begged her. 

After choosing a pad-- the wide, well-shaded ring nearest his hut-- the two stripped to their undershirts and worked through stretches. Quick to limber, Rey finished early and used the intervening time to practice with her saber. Kylo spared glances when he could, correcting footwork and calling her to reign in the blade when it threatened to slice the floor of the ring. She was excitable still, easily distracted by the laser’s glowing sweep. That was common for students, especially when there was no danger to sharpen their focus. Faced with an opponent Kylo didn’t doubt her form would tighten; still, it was better to perfect it beforehand.

When he’d finished his warm up, Kylo motioned for her to set her saber aside. Once she’d sheathed it, he tossed her one of the staffs propped in his corner of the ring. Grinning, she plucked it from the air and beckoned for him to join her at the center. The expression was toothsome, tugged Ren in by the seat of his gut, but he didn’t allow himself to linger on it. It’d been over a week since their last match, and it wouldn’t do to be distracted now. The woman knocked him on his back often enough without his inattention aiding her.

Today, however, Rey seemed less sure on her feet. Kylo had laid her out three times in the past half hour. Such a feat wasn’t uncommon in their early days, but it’d been over eight months since he’d managed to pin her more than once a session. Rey was a model student, dedicated to outstripping herself in all matters; for such a sharp regression to occur, Kylo could only assume her mind was elsewhere.

That, or she was curbing her swings out of pity. Given the events of the last few days, the latter seemed more likely.

Rey had been delicate with him since the conversation with Hux, which he'd been startled to learn she listened to through the control room door. How much she’d caught he couldn’t guess, but her ear was still pressed to it when he threw it open after ending the call. Discomfiting as the discovery had been, however, Ren hadn't scolded her. Beyond offering a hand to drag her to her feet, he didn't even immediately address it. If it’d been a year ago, perhaps, or if the offense had come from someone else, but it was clear the woman meant no harm. She’d been on edge since the mission’s approval, and was only worried. Kylo wouldn’t have withheld anything from her-- told her as much once her chagrin flagged--, but didn’t resent Rey for her concern.

“You got lucky,” Rey muttered, lifting her hand to knock his staff aside.

“Maybe.” Kylo drew the staff back to lean against it. “Or maybe you aren’t as skilled as you thought. If you yield--”

“No,” she said, bald ire bleeding through. Hopping to her feet, she raised her staff in defense. “Guard up. We’re going again.”

Kylo allowed himself a smirk, which only seemed to irritate the woman more. She didn’t like being teased, and least of all by him. Well, it wouldn’t kill her. He’d endured his share of gloating when she brought him down, and besides: if she were throwing the matches, the embarrassment might convince her to fight seriously. Ren would prefer that. Dour as he’d been earlier, he didn’t need pity. He needed a serious contender, someone to dock his nerves and tire him out; a job Rey was more than qualified for, when she wasn’t lacking motivation.

“Are you sure?” he asked, but already his staff was crossed over his chest. “There’s no shame in defeat. In fact, it’s an excellent learning tool. Don’t you want to know what you did wrong?”

Rey shrugged, settling into her stance. “I could probably guess.”

Kylo’s smile flagged, both at the confirmation she’d fixed their fights and at her hubris.

“Perhaps we should stop, then. If you’ve learned all you can from me, I’d hate to waste your time.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. You know I’m teasing.” 

Adjusting her hold on the staff, Rey set a patrol around Ren. Kylo pivoted to follow it, though more out of habit than necessity. Even in play Rey had never taken a swing at his back, and it was doubtful she’d do so now. Still, it was good form.

“Tell me,” she continued, pacing steadily as she sought a break in his guard. “I can multitask if you can.”

Kylo didn’t doubt that. Not now that she was taking this seriously, at least. Her back was bent, hunched like a great, prowling cat’s. Now and then she jutted out the butt of her staff, testing the edge of his reach and reflexes. For the most part, Ren was able to school himself. He didn’t like to strike first, even with an opponent he knew as well Rey; waiting and learning cues gave a greater advantage than striking first. He couldn’t help flinching now and then, though: tilting his staff to parry a faked blow, or stepping back, letting her break his root when it seemed she was rearing back for a dash. 

“You’ve been swinging up,” he said finally, resetting his balance. He had the distinct, unpleasant suspicion that he was being toyed with, but there was nothing he could do now but wait her out. “You should know by now that I’m too tall for that.”

Rey hummed. “You _are_ big.”

Kylo fumbled his staff at that and Rey's darted out, aiming for his ribs. He regained his hold in time to knock it aside, but only just. The woman hardly noticed the block, and seemed to count the break in his guard as a victory. Her lips curled in a smirk, and when Kylo met her gaze again she winked. He grimaced, annoyed to have fallen for such a cheap trick.

“And you’re not,” he said. “Which makes your upswing more of a hindrance than anything. When you overextend like that, you do nothing but expose your chest. Be aware of your height, and use it to your advantage. Swing low; make me come to--”

Rey cut hard, and this time her aim was true. His guard slipped as he spoke-- another cheap shot, Ren thought, but admittedly one he'd have taken himself--, leaving his gut open to attack, and her staff thwacked vengefully across it. The air was punched from him and he stumbled, gasping to chase it. It was easy enough for Rey bring him down then. She let his weight do the work, guiding the collapse with smacks to his knees and thighs. He had to toss his staff aside and catch on his hands to keep from falling flat, though admittedly heaving on all fours wasn’t much more dignified. 

As he caught his breath, nails scrambling for purchase, Rey made her final move. She tugged something from her boot-- something hilted and glinting, Kylo noted with needling dread-- and rounded him. Crouching, she took a fistful of his hair and hauled him onto his knees. When his back was flat against her chest, she adjusted her grip on his hair to bare his neck. Seconds later, when he felt the biting edge press to his throat, he knew he hadn’t guessed wrong; it was a real knife she’d pulled, and it’d been deftly sharpened.

“What was that about getting worse?” she teased, too close to his ear.

Ren suppressed a shudder. “You cheated.”

“Did not.” She shifted, digging the knife into his skin. It stung, either from a minor cut or thrill of nerves, and Kylo hissed. “I played to my advantage like you instructed, Master Solo. It’s not my fault you couldn’t keep up.”

The honorific was a mockery, but Ren’s mind glitched at the edges anyway. Close as they were, he could feel Rey’s heartbeat: steady despite her heavy breath, keeping time against his shoulder blade. He set his own breathing by it, willing his pulse to keep level. His body had betrayed him enough the last time she held a blade to his throat, and he didn't care to repeat the embarrassment.

“If you say,” he allowed. “But what about the knife?”

“What about it?”

She worked her fingers deeper in his hair, threading near the roots. Her nails scratched at his scalp, and Kylo bit back a groan.

“You can’t pull a real weapon in the ring. It isn’t fair.”

“Feel threatened, do you?”

He didn’t particularly, and Kylo suspected she knew that. Her fingers were working smooth strokes against his head, breaking pattern now and then to tug his locks. The pulls were gentle but deep, coaxing his head back to more fully expose the line of his neck. Her knife stayed on the move: dragging over the curve of his throat, cutting up to kiss his pulse or down to press its menacing tip into the hollow of his collarbone. It seemed more like a game than threat; one that Rey, to his embarrassment, was winning. Each twist of her knife teased out a naked, miserable response. His skin pebbled and itched in its wake, breath dragging out in ragged wisps, and by the heat in his cheeks he knew they popped with color.

“You can always yield,” she said when he didn’t respond. Her lips hovered so close to his ear that they brushed it, the heat from her mouth spreading like water. “There’s no shame in defeat, right?”

He huffed, the sound sputtering out as she turned her knife again, experimenting with a harsh press just below his jaw. Kylo’s tongue ached, bled spit, but he hardly dared to swallow. The edge was too close and sharp; could she feel his pulse hammering against the steel? He could, and heard the whir of it like a wave in his ear. He hoped more than ever that he was alone in his mind, that she was too focused on keeping him kneeling than reading him. The coil of his belly was drawn tight, and every shift of her hands and tender puff of breath plucked it, building a desperate thrum. 

Ren shifted, sagging against Rey to relieve the pressure on his throat. She allowed it, but only for a moment. After granting him a few deep breaths, her grip on his hair redoubled, angling him so the line of his jaw brushed her cheek. He arched his back to accommodate the angle, but only succeeded in pinning his shoulders to her chest. When he’d trapped himself, her knife returned, though thankfully only the flat. She rested its cool length against his windpipe, loosening her grip on the hilt enough to graze her knuckles over his skin.

“I yield,” he breathed, then again a little more feverishly when she didn’t release him: “I yield. Please.”

_Don’t be cruel._

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

Rey’s voice was gentle, but Kylo wanted to recoil from it all the same. She had been in his mind, then: listening to the base loop of desire, smelling blood pool low in his gut. How humiliating. If she thought as much, however, it didn’t show. Rey’s hold on his hair loosened, her fingers running through softly now to mollify him. She dragged the knife aside, letting it rest less menacingly on his shoulder and leaned in, replaced its bite with the press of her mouth. His breath snagged.

“Can we go inside?”

Her words blew cool against heated skin, tingling it, and Kylo felt it again: the corners of his thoughts glitching to static, building an ever-closing circle around the smell of Rey’s hair and the quickening thump of her heart against his back.

Not trusting himself to speak, Kylo nodded, then let Rey untangle them and draw them to their feet.

 

 

Divested of her knife, Kylo found Rey to be far less bold.

Once behind the barred door of his hut, Kylo kicked into gear. He lifted Rey by her thighs, breaking their kiss for a moment as she scrambled for balance. She found it, fingers tightening like claws on his shoulders, and ducked down to nip timidly at his lip. He pressed up, smothering the tremble in her breath-- where had that come from, he wondered, when only minutes ago she’d played at slitting his throat?-- with a heavy, slow kiss. He didn’t consider himself an experienced lover, not by half, but this he had done a thousand times. The lead up, the anxious pawing and wet, messy mouthing had been a staple of his younger years; something riskless he and the other students could sneak when Luke was fast asleep.

Kylo’s brow broke, and he shook the thought. He didn’t want to think of his uncle now; not anyone, for that matter. Not when Rey’s legs were wrapped around him, the hard muscles of her thighs and belly bleeding heat. Breaking their kiss, Ren pulled back to admire the high flush and blown pupils of her eyes. Her mouth was parted still, open in a pant and shined with spit. He licked his own lips to wet them, and felt a groan bubble in his throat at how her eyes tracked its path.

Hefting her to secure his hold, Ren crossed the room, stopping when his knees met the stone lip of his bed. That was the only rough edge left, now that it was in use. Its length was covered in long, plush pillows wrapped all over in linen, and piled high with blankets. Most he wasn’t using yet-- stored up as precaution for the winter-- and served as extra padding. Hard as its bones were, the bed was now as soft as any Kylo had ever known, and he dumped Rey onto it without a thought.

The woman squeaked, but the sound was buried in a low hum as Ren stripped off his undershirt. The fabric was old and flimsy, hardly did it’s job still at all, but Rey delighted in the exposure all the same. Kylo stood, hands fisted a little awkwardly at his sides as her eyes raked him: the hard muscles of his chest and belly, slick with sweat from sparring. When their eyes finally met hers were wide and hungry, and Ren felt his blood rush.

He hopped onto the bed with her, crawling up to straddle her waist. Rey sunk back into the pillows, back flattening against the bed, and the heat in her eyes banked. Something else crept in then, uncertainty and an edge of fear wafting off her like smoke; Kylo halted. His hands were already fisted in the hem of her undershirt, poised to tug it over the swell of her chest, but he let them lie.

“What’s wrong?”

Rey swallowed hard, shaking her head. “Nothing,” she said, voice as fluttering as Kylo’s pulse. “I just-- I’ve never…”

She trailed off, the color in her cheeks going dark. Oh. _Oh._ Ren tugged free of her shirt and sat back on his knees, aware suddenly of how he’d trapped her. He hadn’t considered the possibility, though he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. If it weren’t for one lonely man, he’d had never made it beyond the playful explorations of his student days, himself. Misreading the signal, Rey’s brow knit in embarrassment and she began to wiggle free.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--”

“Don’t apologize,” Kylo interrupted, laying a hand on her belly to halt her. “It doesn’t matter. I just didn’t want to crowd you.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she let him guide her back. When she was nestled in the pillows again he let his hand wander, rubbing up to stroke her ribs.

“Are you sure?” he asked, half-dreading the answer. “We don’t have to. I won’t be upset.”

“No,” Rey said quickly, then grimaced, corrected: “I mean, yes, I want to. I just...” She sighed, scrubbing at her cheek as though she could wipe her blush clean. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

That hardly mattered, Kylo thought. He doubted much of his limited experience was transferrable, and what was, was basic at best. Neither of them was likely to level the hut with their prowess. But Ren ached to the miserable seat of his gut, wanted to taste and touch any part of her she’d allow. If she was willing, he didn’t want to squander the chance.

“I’ll help you,” he said, and hoped it sounded assuring. Rubbing down her ribs, he let his fingers come to rest on the hem of her shirt again. He toyed with the edge a moment before continuing. “Can I take this?”

Rey nodded, and Kylo rucked the fabric up, exposing her belly and sides. He slipped his hand beneath her back, coaxing her into an arch to bunch the shirt at her chest. He mouthed _off_ , and after a moment’s hesitation Rey obeyed, tugging the fabric over her head. Kylo took it from her, laying it within reach instead of tossing it aside like his own. If she became nervous later-- though he desperately hoped she didn’t--, it was better to have it near.

Giving her no time to dwell on the exposure, Kylo ducked to kiss up her belly. Rey sighed, arching into it, and Ren took her by the hips to hold her in place. He thumbed the bone, worked circles into the skin stretched over it, and she whimpered, rolling under his hand. Kylo groaned, thrilled to have found a weakness to tease, and alternated pressing and rubbing the tender spots until his mouth found the swell of her chest. He steadied his hands then, letting her catch her breath before mouthing the soft skin. Her hands found his shoulder, rubbed patterns into the muscle while he explored: nipping and tonguing and finally wrapping his lips around a pert, pebbled nibble. The woman gasped, but otherwise laid still; not as sensitive here as he’d expected, then. Pity. She had a sweet, supple chest, and Ren would’ve liked to hear her whine as a suckled it. 

Giving the flesh a final nip, Kylo moved up, seeking a spot he knew would yield results. When he found it-- the nook between her ear and jaw--, Rey went stiff and she rolled her head to the side with a fevered moan. Ren worked it a while, teasing the seam of her ear with a swipe of his tongue before latching, suckling hard enough to bruise if the spot were more fleshy. Rey’s voice pitched in a whine, and the hand on his shoulder sunk its claws. Wincing at the sting, Kylo released the spot and sat back.

“These next,” he panted, hooking his fingers under the waist of Rey’s pants.

A little dazed still, Rey nodded, reaching down to unfasten the line of buttons. Kylo tugged the material down over her thighs, lifting his hips when he could go no further. She kicked it free, sending the pants to join Ren’s abandoned shirt on the floor. 

With the constricting material gone, Kylo resettled himself between Rey’s thighs. Her breath snagged and for a moment she drew tight, knees knocking his ribs as she tried to close her legs. Kylo shushed her, rubbing her flank.

“Do you want to stop?”

Rey shook her head so quickly that Ren wondered if she’d really heard him. But her legs unclenched then, falling open around his hips, and the fear abated. 

“Good,” he whispered, more to himself than Rey. She preened all the same, her swollen mouth falling open in a pant. Kylo’s pulse hammered at the sight, and between his legs an aching throb matched it.

Taking her hip in one hand, he let the other skate down her belly to tease the ticklish meeting of her thighs. She pressed into the contact, jerking when she rolled his thumb deeper into the lit nerves at her hip, but he kept moving. There was a tremble in his fingers, growing more pronounced as he neared the seat of her heat. He’d never been with a woman, not really. There’d been kisses and adolescent groping, but nothing like this: Rey stripped and thighs rent, flooding his lungs with the thick, earthy smell of her cunt. His heart thudded violently against his ribs, and if he stopped now he wasn't sure he could begin again. He'd soaked up the woman's nerves, but he didn't want to give himself away; not now that she’d finally settled.

“Do you do this to yourself?” he asked, a little prematurely.

“Do wh--” 

She bit her lip, swallowing a moan when Kylo's fingers found their mark. He dragged them over the the seam of her cunt, spreading sticky wetness into the curls before dipping in. He split her lips, sinking in molten heat to tease her opening. The tip of his finger ringed the tight furl and she yelped, biting the back of her hand too late.

“Well?”

Her teeth flashed, clamping the meat of her thumb viciously before pulling it free and laying it on her belly.

“Not usually,” she said, training her eyes just over his shoulder. “I have, but normally I just--”

She bit her lip, and the tinge in her cheeks crept to her ears. Kylo sympathized; it was, admittedly, an invasive question.

“I'm not trying to embarrass you,” he soothed. “Just gauging. Normally what?” She didn't answer, but the hand on her stomach twitched down before she could school it. “This?” 

He dragged his thumb up, slicked the swollen head of her clit, and she groaned as if the air had been wrenched from her.

“I'm sure that does the trick.” He circled it again, catching the hood, then slipped back between her lips. “But some-- women _and_ men-- prefer the alternative. I know I do.”

He didn't know what made him say it, beyond that it was true and Rey still looked mildly panicked. He didn't blame her; between them, his fingers were undeniably the larger, and if she rarely took her own he didn't doubt their girth was intimidating.

“Really?” 

She looked to him then, daring to drag her eyes from whatever she'd latched to. They were blown, dark with want in spite of her nerves, and Kylo's mouth ran dry.

“Yes,” he said, not wanting to linger here. He stroked her trembling entrance, pressing to tease it open. “Do you want to try?”

She nodded, eyes falling at the press, and Kylo wasted no more time. Slicking the length of his finger one more time, he sunk in, slowing when he met resistance to nudge her clit. When his knuckle bumped her, he paused to let her adjust. He leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of her open mouth, and she twisted in the blankets to return it. She tongued hungrily at the seam of his lip and rocked against his palm. 

Taking her cue, Kylo set a slow pace, working her open with shallow, steady pumps. She adjusted quickly, hips stuttering half in time as she arched up to nip at his collarbone. He whimpered at the bite, crooked his finger to catch the tender ribbing there, and she drew like a vice around his knuckles.

“Can you--” she panted, hand skating up her belly to paw at her chest. “I think, ah...” 

She swallowed, eyes screwing shut. Kylo broke pace, honing his focus on the spot at his fingertip. Rey arched into the touch and dropping the thread of her thought.

“Another?” he asked, voice gruff even to his own ears.

Rey muttered something he couldn't catch. Her legs fell wider though, inviting him in, so Kylo wouldn't make her repeat it. He didn't want to embarrass; not when she was still strung too tight for what she was asking. Eager though she was, working another in would hurt if he wasn't careful.

Not wanting to keep her waiting-- and admittedly because his mouth ached for it--, he scooted down to rest between her thighs. She rose onto her elbows, eyes following him curiously; they blew wide when his nose nudged her clit, and she back fell flat with a cuss.

“What are you doing?” she asked weakly.

He breathed deep, savoring her scent. “Helping.”

She huffed her frustration, but Ren didn't give her time to retort. Flattening his tongue, he worked a slow, single stroke from the root of his knuckles to the nub of her clit, tightening his hold on her hip when she bucked.

He pinned her there for a long while, teasing her with his mouth while he coaxed her open. His tongue kept on the move, the flat of it slicking the folds before sharpening, diving to circle her clit and edge of her entrance stretched first around one finger, then a second, and finally a third. Her hips stuttered as the last sunk in, and after a few pumps her hands wove through his hair, pinning him with a stinging grip.

“ _Ben_ ,” she groaned, voice dipping low. “I think--”

She trailed off, distracted by a flick of his tongue, but he could guess well enough. Keeping pace-- it'd be a pity to lose her edge now--, he wrapped his lips around her swollen clit and suckled, dragging out a high, keening whine. Grip going white in his hair, she rolled her hips a few more times then stilled, thighs trembling and cunt clenching in waves around him. Kylo moaned with her, rocking his hand gently to guide her through the tremors. When she settled he slipped out, releasing her clit with a wet smack, and laid his head against her hip.

She didn't give him time to rest. Her grip on hair redoubled and she tugged, hauling him up by the roots. Ren winced, but otherwise allowed himself to be guided to her mouth. Dizzy still from the taste and smell of her, he fumbled, falling clumsily into the kiss. Their teeth smacked, but Rey didn't seem to mind. Heedless of the clash and the smear of her own release on his face, she slotted them together, kissed him until Kylo felt the stammer of her heart tamp down.

“Now you,” she panted when she finally drew back.

Kylo grunted, his hips rocking involuntarily against hers at the suggestion. He wanted to-- desperately-- but worried it was hardly worth the effort. His long dry spell had slashed his stamina, and he'd been miserably hard for so long already. The trapped thrum of it was nearly unbearable now, and he doubted it’d take more than a few minutes to wring him dry.

“It's not worth it for you,” he muttered into her neck, feeling a fresh bloom of heat at the admission. “Wouldn't last. I should probably--”

“I don't care,” she interrupted, pressing up on one elbow and feeling between them for his waistband. “I want you to.”

Her hand slipped on his buckle, knocking her knuckles against the trapped line if his cock. He rolled into it, burying a hiss in the crook of her neck.

“Alright,” he said, lifting his hips. “Give me a minute.”

Swatting her hand away, he went to work on the buckles and buttons. Shaking as they were, his fingers slipped a few times, but Rey was patient. She rested back on her elbows, stroking his side with her knee. Kylo focused on that, set his breathing by the steady pattern in the hopes of drawing the moment out.

_Not likely_ , he thought when he finally pulled his cock free. The relief of pressure did nothing for the ache, and even the brush of his own fingers made his vision flare white. He was lucky he hadn’t embarrassed himself already.

Knocking Rey’s legs wider, he motioned for her to lay back. Her eyes lit on his cock, free and laying heavy now in his hand, and she lingered, tongue peeking between her lips. Kylo imagined the slide of that pulsing, wet muscle over his tip, and had to bite his cheek to clear the fog. No good. Not now, at any rate. It’d only make his chances worse.

“Lay down,” he instructed aloud this time, and she finally obeyed. He waited for her to settle then slipped his free hand under her hips. Holding her aloft, he nudged a blanket beneath her, angling her to up to ease entry. “Comfortable?”

She nodded, and Kylo licked his lips.

“Alright. Just--” He hunched over, bracing his free hand on her hip and lining up. “Relax.”

Her own fog having cleared in the wake of release, some of Rey’s humor returned. She huffed at that, made a show of rolling her eyes. Ren supposed he deserved it. The instruction wasn’t overly helpful, and he remembered reacting similarly his first time. He rubbed an apology into the tender point of her hip, then guided his cock to the wet folds. She hissed at the contact, drawing tight when he brushed her entrance. Kylo shushed her, petting her hip until he felt her tension flag.

“Good,” he muttered, remembering that she’d liked it before. 

A few blotchy spots of color flared in Rey’s cheeks and she shifted her hips, dragging her wetness over the length of his cock to slick him. He bit his lip to stifle a moan, and tasted blood. _Very good_. 

Not wanting to waste Rey’s enthusiasm, he rolled his hips, easing in. Rey gasped, her cunt drawing tight, and his vision momentarily blacked. Easy, he thought, or said; he wasn’t sure. Either way, she seemed to hear it. After a few deep breaths she relaxed, muttering for him to keep going. He hesitated, though only for a moment, and only to lean in and lay a few placating kisses to her neck. Once there, he pressed on, sinking into her dewy heat until he met resistance; the reach of his fingers, he thought distantly, or the bottoming out of her cunt. He wasn’t fully seated, but that didn’t matter. The tight, velvet heat was consumptive all the same, and Kylo had to hover for several long seconds to compose himself.

After catching his breath, Ren rocked carefully, pumping slow, shallow strokes to drag it out. He didn’t last long, anyway. Once she’d adjusted, Rey was wonderfully responsive: rocking back as best she could at the awkward angle and clenching rhythmically when he bumped a deep, tender spot. Her moans spiked to whimpers, stretching thin when Kylo dared to draw back and tease, leaving only the raw tip for her to buck against. The sound and sight of her stoked the lust roiling in his gut, and within minutes it drew unbearably tight, breaking the carefully set rhythm of his hips.

“I can’t,” he bit out, gripping her hips to still her. He rested in her for a moment, taking deep, centering breaths to stave off his building release. “I have to stop.”

She whined, but spread her knees for him, held her hips up obligingly for him to slid free. He fell from her with a heavy pant, trailing a sticky mix of their leak. Rey’s eyes darkened at the sight, and as Kylo wrapped his fist tight around himself she scrambled up.

“Let me help,” she demanded, reaching out without waiting for permission. 

Her small hand covered his, fingers wiggling to make room for her own. Kylo obliged, spreading to let her cool fingers graze the skin of his cock, and they both hissed.

“Tell me what to do.”

He swallowed, feeling his cock pulse. “Close your fist. Tight; it won’t hurt.”

She gave a tentative squeeze, eyes darting to his for signs of distress. When his brow only knitted, she redoubled her grip, slotting her fingers tight between his own. He guided her then, working their hands in a punishing pace. He dragged her once, twice, three times before she halted him, pulled free to drag the flat of her thumb over the swollen, raw head. Kylo felt his mind glitch and he bucked, spilling over her knuckles and nails with a skittering groan. 

Rey panted in turn, thumbing the head to milk him dry. When his voice ticked, edging on pain, she finally drew back, holding her ruined hand up between them. They stared at it a while, watching the thick liquid work down her fingers and palm. It was filthy, Kylo thought, and he was half tempted to snatch her hand and wipe it on the blankets. He could always wash them later. 

As if she heard him, Rey pulled the hand closer, almost cradling it. She considered the pearly slick a moment longer, then lifted one soiled finger to her mouth and licked it clean. Blanching, Kylo seized her by the wrist and pulled, freeing the finger with an obscene pop.

“You shouldn’t--” He paused, redirected, because that wasn’t true. He’d had hers not half an hour ago. “You don’t have to do that.”

She shrugged, working loose of his grip. “I know.” Rey twisted her wrist, catching light in the milky smear. “But I want to.”

He dropped his hand, feeling his jaw work. He had no argument for that, and no will to make one besides. Leaving her to it, he focused instead on his breathing, trying to steady the tripping of his heart. Catching his eye, Rey brought two glistening fingers to her mouth. She breathed the scent deep then slid them over her lips, splitting the seam like a knife. 

Ren swallowed hard, and felt the pattering behind his ribs tick back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have, like, zero shame.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh,” the Commander said. “You think the Knights sold you out, and that Ben was our prisoner still.” He tongued the point of one tooth, mouth curling in a mean grin. “You’re one dumb son of a bitch, you know that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, the moment I made everyone wait an extra week for...
> 
> It's a little long, but I figured I owed y'all a bit for leaving it on a cliffhanger! Hope it was worth the wait. I had a great time writing it, and can't wait to hear what everyone thinks.

To the man’s credit, Finn took the sight of Kylo and Rey still tangled together in relative stride.

After Rey had licked clean, the two settled into the nest of Kylo’s blankets. Beyond the woman slipping back into her undershirt and Ren tugging cover over his hips, they didn’t bother dressing. They needed a shower, or at least Kylo did; his skin tacked all over with sweat and release. He’d find his pants when he recovered enough to visit the washroom, but until then didn't want to soil more cloth than necessary. 

Besides, it was pleasant to lay like this: bare skin to hers, pressed less urgently now that they'd spent their heat. Rey seemed to agree, and used the time to acquaint herself with the newly exposed reaches of him. Her fingers worked curiously over his stomach and thighs, mapping him delicately. She traced ropey scars, threaded through the dark curls low on his belly, laughing into his shoulder when she brushed a spot that made his muscles twitch. 

“Ticklish?” she asked, dragging her nails over meeting of his thigh to hear his breath hitch. “You don’t look like the type.”

Kylo considered asking what type he did look, but thought better of it. The woman was enjoying herself, and had indulged him already. He could afford to return the favor. There was no harm in her exploration, apart from the occasional discomfort of her discovering a weak spot, but even that Ren didn’t mind much. The rough pads of her fingers felt good, and it had been so long since anyone had touched him just for the pleasure. There was no intention behind her wandering, no point other than prolonging contact. It was tender, almost sweet, and Kylo found himself savoring even the sporadic tickles. So he laid still as she stroked, letting himself be milked for sighs and enjoying the quiet of the hut.

Which was almost unbearably peaceful, of course, until its door swung wide and Finn came tromping through.

“There you are,” the man began, not immediately registering the scene. “I've been looking for--”

He halted, knuckles drawing tight around the lip of the door when his gaze finally settled. His eyes bounced between Rey, who'd hastily drawn a blanket over her bare legs, to Kylo's naked chest, to the clothes scattered on the floor, and his eyes blew wide.

“Kriff, I'm sorry. I didn't-- should've knocked.”

He should have, Kylo thought, feeling a new wave of heat creep up his throat. But that had never Finn before.

“Just get in,” Ren muttered. “And shut the door. Please.”

The word was an afterthought, but Ren tacked it on anyway, not wanting to sound too short. Finn had been at his post all day, and hadn't so much as commed with an interruption all day. Kylo could only assume he'd abandoned it now for good reason.

Hesitating only long enough to give Rey a sheepish look, Finn slipped in, putting the door to his back. He leaned against the panel and let his weight click it shut before speaking.

“Sorry,” he repeated, not meeting either of their eyes. His attention kept darting around the room, seeking purchase on anything but their bodies. “Could've commed, I guess. Just thought you'd be outside.” He sniffed, cleared his throat. “Nice weather and all.”

“We were,” Rey said, and Kylo could almost hear her willing the flare of red to leave her cheeks. “For a while.”

Finn hummed, and a few tense beats of silence fell between them. The man's hands were behind his back, poised in the handle of the door, and Kylo could feel his desire to bolt as keenly as Rey's embarrassment. Ren sighed, wishing now that he'd run the risk of soiling his pants.

“Finn,” he said, calling for his attention. When he had it, Ren nodded to the pants laying just out of reach on the floor. “If you could.”

Grateful for directive, Finn crossed the room and snatched the pants up, tossing them onto the bed. Kylo caught them, and after giving the other man time to turn around freed himself of the blankets and struggled in. 

“Take your time,” he muttered to Rey, whose cheeks had lost some of their flame. “I'll talk to him outside.”

Giving her a kiss to the shoulder, Kylo slipped from bed and caught Finn's eye. He jerked his head toward the door and hurried ahead, holding it open for the man. Finn scurried through, relaxing visibly once on the other side. Kylo followed, and let the door click shut before addressing the other man.

“You heard something?” He asked.

“Yea,” Finn said, a little distracted. 

His eyes lighted on Ren's chest, which Kylo realized too late he'd forgotten to cover. Well, no matter. That, at least, was something Finn had seen several times before. 

“And?” Kylo crossed his arms, bisecting the man’s view. Finn shook himself and met Kylo's gaze. “What was it?”

“Hux made contact,” Finn said, concentration returning. “Said he and his guard were boarding the ship. He's expecting to touch down in five or six hours.”

The tension Rey siphoned from him crept back at that. “Did you respond?”

Finn shook his head. “Poe said it was too risky, that we might give ourselves away.”

Good man, Ren thought. Hux had spent the last several years reading his messages: over whisky, at his desk, under the lip of his station on the bridge. Having confirmed now that it _was_ Kylo he was speaking with, any inconsistency would raise his alarms.

“I’ll send something when I get to the control room,” Kylo said. “Did you see the Knights before they left this morning?” He waited for Finn to nod before continuing. “I don’t suppose they took a comm along.”

“Suu did.” Finn’s mouth quirked. “The last few times they’ve gone, actually. She’s been telling me about the plants she finds.”

Kylo felt his own mouth turn up. Suu had always been partial to botany, an interest none of the other Knights shared. He and the women had spent years suffering through her lectures, and it was a relief to hear she’d found a more receptive audience. 

“Call them in, then. I’d like all of us in position before dark.” Preferably sooner. Hux was terminally early, and even with the unyielding laws space travel binding him Kylo didn’t trust the man’s estimates. “Wait with Poe for them in the control room. Rey and I will join you shortly.”

After she’d dressed, Kylo didn’t say, and he’d taken a few minutes to rag off. Finn filled in the gaps well enough on his own, and bit his lip.

“Yea,” he said, voice pitching up. “Take your time. They’re in pretty deep, anyway. I’ll just--” Finn scrubbed at his hair, ruffling the springy locks. “Look, I didn’t mean to--”

Ren held up a hand, saving Finn the trouble. “I know.”

“So, ah--” Finn paused, scuffing his boot against the dirt. “We're good?”

Kylo couldn't guess why they wouldn't be. Embarrassment aside, there was no harm in what the man had done. His and Rey's coupling wasn't forbidden; even if it were, Ren felt certain it was a secret Finn wouldn't betray. The man was a fiercely devoted friend. He'd trusted the man with his life on more than one occasion, and would gladly stake his reputation on his silence now.

“Of course,” Kylo said, relaxing his stance a little to set Finn at ease.

The man considered him for only a moment, then nodded, accepting his word.

“Good. I'll let Poe know you’re on the way.”

Eager to put the encounter behind him, Finn spun and headed for the barracks. Kylo let him cross half courtyard before calling out again.

“Finn.” He waited for the man to turn before flashing him a grin. “Perhaps you could knock next time.”

The tease docked the man’s tension. His dour expression broke and he laughed, the sweet sound of it echoing between the huts. 

“I think I can swing that,” he said, then turned to the barracks again, leaving Ren alone.

 

 

Once dressed and clean, Kylo and Rey made their way to the control room. As expected, Finn beat them there. He flanked Dameron-- who likely hadn’t left since locking himself away that morning--, who fluttered around the communicator like a bird. He frowned when Ren ducked into the room, muttered _where have you been?_ , then wheeled the larger man to the screen by the shoulders. Discomfited by the long silence, Hux had apparently sent a follow-up message, and while Kylo could read no threat in it, it set Dameron’s teeth on edge.

“Answer him,” Poe snapped, pressing Kylo into the chair at the keypad. “Before the bastard calls.”

Kylo grimaced at the rough treatment, but didn't resist. “He won’t.”

Hux didn’t take well to being ignored, and more than once had forced through a video transmission when Kylo was bent on doing so, but that wouldn’t work here. Any overrides the Order had programmed into the unit had gone down when the Knights beat it to scraps. The rebuild was clean, untapped, and while Hux had no reason to believe it’d be done by anyone other than the Knights, he’d still know better than to try pushing through. The women had made too much of a show of going rogue to fall back on Order programming.

Fingers lighting on the keyboard, Ren sent a quick reply. He’d been showering, he said-- which wasn’t a lie--, and it’d been no mean feat. 

_Smelled like cell rot_ , he added, imaging Hux's nose scrunching in disgust.

_Charming_ , Armitage replied barely a minute later. Hovering over his datapad, Kylo assumed. _Don't leave the room again_.

_Should I consider this practice?_

There was a longer break between replies then. Ren imagined Hux’s fingers poised over his screen, tongue darting out to wet his lips. The man had been uncomfortable with the idea of smuggling him at first, but he’d had days now to acclimate. Who knew what terms he’d come to, or how he imagined them filling their shared moments of Kylo’s genial imprisonment.

_If you need it_ , Hux sent finally, and Ren could taste the threat of an old tease. _Your self-discipline has always lacked_.

Kylo snorted, and let the line lie. Armitage appreciated having the last word, and Ren had responded enough now to soothe any fear his long silence might’ve stoked. 

“Satisfied?” he asked, tilting his head back to look up at Dameron. 

The man was hovering still, one hand gripping the back of the chair and the other flat on the control panel. He’d boxed Kylo in to scan the messages, and Ren was surprised to realize that this was the closest the two had ever been. Dameron had always maintained his distance, even over the last six months, in which he’d grown more amicable than Kylo ever dared to hope. Now, however, he leaned close, the heat of his chest against Ren’s shoulders. How often had he seen the Commander bend over Finn like this? 

“If Hux is,” the man muttered, finally drawing back. “I agree, though: you shouldn’t leave again. Not until this is over.”

Kylo shared the sentiment. With Hux en route, it was critical for him to keep an eye on the communicator. The man was already wound tight, a fact that would only redouble as he drew near. If he wanted to keep the edge off the other man’s suspicion, he needed to be at Hux’s call until touch down. After that… well. That was another beast entirely.

Resigning himself to spending the rest of the day in the control room, Kylo took Finn’s comm and called to the Knights. The women still hadn’t arrived, but that wasn’t unexpected. The forest was winding and deep, and with how long they’d wandered already a swift exit would’ve been surprising. Suu returned his buzz, assuring him that she and the others were nearing the edge. The forest was thinning around them as she spoke, the trees sparsing out and the outline of camp coming into view between the branches.

“Should we come to the control room still?” she asked, her voice muddied by the other Knight’s chatter.

“No,” Ren answered. “Do you remember where we stored the spare comms?” Suu hummed her assent. “Make sure each of the Knights has one and split up. Form a perimeter around the barracks, and let me know when you’re in place.”

Suu made quick work of signing off, the line blasting static for several seconds before going dead. Kylo made to toss the comm back to Finn then, but the other man waved it off.

“Keep it,” he said. “They’ll need to call you back anyway.”

Thanking him, Kylo rested the comm between the clunky keys of the communicator. Once it was safe, he turned his attention to Dameron.

“What’s your plan, Commander?”

“Since we’ve got time, I want to take another walk around camp. Make sure we didn’t leave an obvious trace.” Poe shrugged. “Hux might plan on coming straight here, but if he’s bringing a guard, I bet they’ll explore. I don’t want to make sniffing us out too easy.”

That would be a shame, Kylo thought. Hux’s guard was new, but he didn’t doubt the man had stocked it with his most skilled soldiers. Seizing power was a dangerous game, and the man likely owed his life to the sharp senses of his carefully chosen unit. If the Resistance’s cover was blown too early, it was sure to be fatal.

“After that,” the Commander continued, “I figured we’d set up somewhere. There’s a few good spots on the roof, and I’m sure the Knights could use help securing the perimeter. Never too early, right?”

Kylo hummed. “I can keep you updated on Hux’s movements, if you’d like. I expect he’ll warn me before landing.”

“We’ll be in place before then, but it wouldn’t hurt.” Poe crossed his arms, clucked his tongue without seeming to notice. “You going to be alright in here for a few hours?”

He wasn’t looking forward to it, certainly, but he’d survive. There were a few half-finished jugs of water in the corner, and what looked like the wrapped remains of a loaf of bread. Between that and Hux’s periodic messages, Ren could entertain himself well enough.

“I’ll manage.”

Poe fished out his comm, making a show of pinning it to the collar of his shirt. 

“Buzz if you need anything, alright?” He jabbed a finger towards the communicator. “And don’t leave him hanging again. I don’t trust him not to crack.”

Ren huffed a laugh. “Understood, Commander.”

Poe took Finn by the shoulder then, ushering him out ahead of himself. He glanced back at Rey, but she shook her head, muttering that she’d catch them up. Poe nodded, told her to look for them in the mess when she was ready, then ducked out of the room himself. The door swung in his wake, creaking to a half-close. Rey waited for the men’s footsteps to patter out before crossing to Kylo’s chair. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” she asked, taking to her knees in front of him. Ren let his legs fall open to accommodate her, and she pressed in as close as the seat would allow. “I can stay if you’d like.”

Kylo _would_ like that. They hadn’t laid together long enough for his taste. She’d felt good against him, her face nestled in the crook of his shoulder, and good now with her shoulders brushing the belly of his thighs. But she couldn’t stay. Not when their Commander needed her help.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. 

He thumbed the line of her collarbone through her shirt, and she pressed into the contact.

“It’ll work,” she said, more to herself than anything. “It has to.”

“It will. He has no reason to suspect us.”

She bit her lip and looked away, a thrum of nervous energy pooling at her knees. Kylo sighed. Leaning forward in the seat, he took her chin in hand and turned her back to face him.

“When this is over-- when we have him-- would you like to come back to my hut? You could sleep there, if you want.”

“Really?”

He nodded, and some of her tension broke. Smiling warmly, she twisted out of his grip and kissed the skin of his wrist.

“I should go,” she said in lieu of answering. Kylo didn’t fault her for that. _Later_ was a distraction they couldn’t afford. “They’ll need my help with the sweep.”

Bracing on his thighs, Rey pushed herself up. She paused on her way to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth then straightened, tugging the creases from her shirt.

“Keep us updated, yea?”

“I will,” he promised.

Gathering courage from that, she turned and left the room, tugging the door fully closed behind her. 

When the sound of her steps faded down the hall, Ren turned himself back to the screen and waited.

 

 

 

All the light had gone from the control room window before Kylo heard from Hux again, though by then the warning wasn’t needed. The floodlights of his ship overpowered the glow of stars, breaking like a wave against the plexi, and he felt the deep rumble of its engines in his chest.

“Can you hear that?” he asked through the comm, voice already pitched low.

One by one, the Knights, Rey, Finn and Poe called back. They’d heard it, couldn’t help but to, and had bent low in their hiding spots to dodge the fingers of light. 

“Stay put for now,” Kylo said, “and out of sight. Knights: eyes on Hux’s guard. If you can get them alone--”

“We won’t waste the shot,” Lotti interrupted. 

He nodded, belatedly realizing they wouldn’t see it. “Take them out when you can, but wait until Hux is inside. We don’t want him bolting. Commander?”

“Yea?”

Kylo licked his lips, feeling oddly exposed. Dameron rarely deferred to him. “You and the others, tail him in. I’ll stall as long as I can, but eventually I’ll need you.”

“You got it,” Poe confirmed, then cut himself off with a cuss. “Comms down. They’re coming out.”

Ren listened for the click of each comm going dead before powering down his own. Once stuffed away, he crept to peak out of the window. It faced the courtyard, though only just; he had to crane his neck to catch the envoy exiting the ship. He took a count as they came: ten guards, all with blasters strapped to their hips. About as many as suspected, Kylo thought, and he fogged the window in relief. The Knights had subdued double that many times in the past. Their skill and superior knowledge of the landscape would give them enough advantage to pick the men off, and when they had, it was only a matter of snaring Hux.

As if summoned by the thought, Armitage stalked from the ship, bringing up the rear of his crew. He looked ill in the bleaching light, eyes set in deep shadow and cheekbones as cutting as a starving man's. He hadn't been eating; that much was plain even from a distance, and likely his sleeping had suffered as well. That wasn't uncommon. Hux often stretched himself thin, dragging himself ever closer to the brink until someone dragged him back. The task had often fallen to Kylo, as many of the ship’s orderlies were too timid to reign Armitage in. Who'd monitored the man's habits in his absence, Ren wondered. Perhaps no one. That would certainly explain his appearance.

Once clear of the ramp, Hux began barking at his men. The plexi was too thick for Kylo to pick his words, but his directions were obvious enough. The team huddled around him, following the line of his arm as he pointed out their patrol. When he'd finished, the guards pulled their blasters and paired up, fanning like the fingers of a hand and slinking out of sight. Hux watched a while, eyes straining in the dark, then pushed back his greatcoat to pull his own gun free. He turned it, disengaging the safety, and headed for the barracks. Kylo ducked to avoid his gaze, and crept back to his chair to wait.

Armitage didn’t keep him waiting long. Minutes after taking his seat, Kylo heard the crack of one of the side doors knocking open. The front blast door was sealed tight, and would’ve been unaffected by any code Hux might’ve tried. The side doors, however, were manual, easily snapped with the proper leverage; pallor aside, Hux exploited the angle with ease.

His steps rang through the hall, a methodical click that started up a tick in Kylo’s fingers. He picked at the chair’s leather arms, willing his nerves to settle. It was only Hux, he reminded himself; by all looks sickly, and entirely alone. With any luck his men were making the last rounds of their lives, and his blaster-- well. That weapon was easily dispatched of. Kylo had robbed dozens of opponents of their guns without injury in the past, and his own weapon-- the saber Rey had returned-- was tucked in the back of his pants. It rested like a brand against Ren’s back, ready to be drawn if necessary. There was no danger here, not for him. Not really.

Still, when the door to the control room creaked open and he found himself eye level with the barrel of a gun, he couldn’t help but draw a skittering breath.

Hux tensed at the sound, gloved hand creaking around the blaster’s handle, but the nose of it tilted down. Not lowered, not yet, but less pressing of a threat. The man glanced around the room, squinting into the corners the light of his ship hadn’t washed clean. After deeming it empty he let the weapon drop, pointing the nose to the floor. He reengaged the safety and stuffed it into the pocket of his coat.

“You know,” the man began, too weary to pass for conversational, “I was half-expecting a trap.”

Kylo forced his fingers to relax. “Is that why you sent your guard on patrol?”

Hux brow furrowed, and Kylo jerked his head to the window. The man followed it, humming when he caught sight of the ramp of his ship. “Still spying, I see.”

“You said to keep an eye out,” Ren muttered, mouth turning down. “It isn’t my fault you were caught.”

Hux's expression soured. “It isn't a crime to protect myself.”

“From who? Me?” He swept a hand over himself, gesturing to what he lacked. Hux followed it, scanning for straps and holsters, and bit his lip a little sheepishly when he found nothing. “The Knights? I told you they weren’t here, and even if they were--” He shifted in the chair, tilting his head curiously. “--what would you have to fear from them?”

Hux blanched, chewing his tongue, and Ren felt a twinge of regret. It was a cruel question, and unnecessary besides. There was no point in trying to tease the truth out now. If he’d intended to tell Kylo about his and Kish’s altercation, he’d have done it days ago. 

“Nothing,” he breathed, cementing Ren’s belief. “Nothing, of course, I’m just--” He trailed off, hands making fists at his side. “Can we not do this?”

“What?”

“Bicker. Please. Let me look at you.”

Without waiting for permission, Hux crossed the room, closing their distance in a few strides. Kylo straightened in the chair as the man approached, angling his head back to take the long line of him in. He was even more pallid up close, the bruising beneath his eyes sharpened by the room’s stark lighting, and the roots of his hair lank with grease. The smell of smoke wafted down from where he hovered, and something else, chemical and crushed. Some sedative he’d been taking for sleep or nerves, Ren supposed, working out through his sweat.

“You look well,” Hux muttered, a little dazed. “Quite well, considering. You’ve had enough to eat here?” Kylo nodded, and Armitage mirrored the motion. “Any damage to report?”

Ren resisted snorting at that. He wasn’t a piece of machinery. 

“A few new scars, but nothing fresh.” He sunk in the chair, spreading his legs to invite the man in. “Pain, mostly, but the shower helped with that.”

Hux’s nose ruffled at the vagueness of the report. Still, he moved in, drawn by the heat.

“That couldn’t have waited, I suppose.”

“You wouldn’t be asking if you’d smelled me before. Besides--” He caught Hux’s eye, daring to smirk. “I wasn’t sure how soon you’d want your... _thanks_ for rescuing me.”

Armitage went stiff, his throat bobbing slow. “I’m not an animal, Ren. You’re seeing a med droid first.”

There was concern in his tone, genuine and deep. Hux was worried, Kylo realized, and it superseded the humming base of his want. Whatever he hoped Ren would give, he had no intention of accepting until he'd been deemed well.

Kylo's chest drew tight at the thought, but he didn’t allow himself to linger on it. Armitage’s intentions were moot, and besides: a low, green coil of energy had begun to work up his legs. Dimly at first, so faint he almost hadn't noticed, but firmly enough now that Ren had to glance down to ensure it wasn't a tangible grip. Rey had found her way into the building, and was reaching out to give him courage. And if she-- and by extension Finn and Poe-- had made it in, the Knights couldn't be far behind. Despite Kylo's request that the three leave the guards to the women, he knew that was unlikely to happen. Rey and Finn, at least, had grown fond of the Knights; they wouldn't have come in if there was still a fight.

Aware of how tightly the circle was closing around himself and Hux, Kylo changed tack. “Should we go, then? I wouldn't want to keep your droid waiting.”

“Yes,” Hux muttered, leaning to peer through the window. “We should, but--”

The man's brow scrunched and he drew back, moving closer to the window. He craned his neck, peering as deeply into the courtyard as he could before digging through his pocket.

“What is it?” Kylo asked, pushing out of his chair.

“The guards.” Armitage pulled a comm from his pocket, adjusting the channel. “I told them to wait by the ship when they finished.”

“Maybe they boarded.”

Hux brought the comm to his mouth, glaring at Ren over his knuckles.

“Not all my men are as flagrant as you.” Kylo hardly had time to consider the fact that Hux thought of him as one of his men before he barked into the comm. “Captain Barak, why aren’t you at the ship?”

The line spat static. Hux let it go for nearly thirty seconds before trying again.

“Captain Barak,” he repeated stubbornly, “can you hear me?” Another pulse of static, shifting and live as the interference in the forest. The Knights must’ve tossed their bodies between the trees. “Rainey? Zev?”

Hux ran through a list of names, pausing after each to give them a chance to call back. His voice pitched as he went, climbing higher the longer he failed to get a response. The anxiety consumed him, kept him turned and craning at the window; when the Knights slipped through the door, he didn’t even notice the shift. 

Kylo stood firm, not wanting to draw Armitage’s attention with a sudden move while the women were still getting in place. They made a hard line in front of the exit, holding their sabers-- deactivated now, but hot still, no doubt, to the touch-- at their sides.

“I don’t understand,” Hux muttered, dropping the comm as he turned from the window. “At least one of them should--”

He cussed when he saw the women, schooling his shock too late to prevent a jolt. His eyes darted between each of their faces, at once cataloging the features their masks had kept hidden and taking count. Five: the complete set, or what was left of it. 

“You said you were alone.”

Hux’s voice was tremulous, and he took a half-step closer to where Kylo stood. He didn’t tear his eyes away from the Knights, and as he drew nearer Ren could feel a low, coiling fear wrapping around him. Armitage had always been an easy read.

“He was,” Lotti teased, a little meanly. “At that particular time. Did you think we’d leave our Master to rot?”

Hux made to say something, but Malka cut him off. “We don’t abandon our own, Hux. Not even the dead.”

Armitage looked to him at that, almost seeming to regret having closed their distance. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, teetering on the ledge of a question.

“I know,” Kylo said, sparing him. “They told me.”

What was left of Hux’s color ran out. Instead of backing away, however, he stepped closer. Ren resisted the urge to fall back.

“Whatever you heard,” Armitage said, voice low and placating. “I didn’t order the death of that woman.” 

Carefully, Hux laid a hand on his arm. The Knights shifted in the door, eyes tracking touch, but there was no threat to it. Quite the opposite, Kylo thought; he could feel the shake in the other man’s hand through his shirt. 

“She’s still dead, though, isn’t she?”

Hux flinched, but didn’t break contact.

“What do you want: the one responsible incarcerated? Executed, perhaps?” Hux licked his dry lips, eyes flitting between Kylo and the Knights. “Say the word. I’ll have it done.”

From the end of the line, Anat laughed, the sound grating in the still of the room. “He stood trial already, and faced his executioner. They all have.”

Hux grimaced at the confirmation, but didn’t respond. His hand dropped to Ren’s wrist, and he thumbed timidly at the bone. He wouldn’t beg for his life-- the man was too proud for that-- but he was bargaining now, or trying to. The anger he felt at having walked into a trap was tempered with fear and guilt and the hot wash of relief at being allowed to _touch_. The man was a mess of emotion, and he clung to Ren’s wrist like a lifeline. Whatever he thought this was, he was certain he could talk his way out of it. He trusted his skill, and more than that: anger and climbing dread aside, he trusted Kylo. He wouldn’t have come if he didn’t.

“Come back with me.” Tightening his hold on Ren’s wrist, he turned to the women and added: “All of you. There’s no reason to remain in exile now you’ve settled the debt. I can give you powerful stations, comfortable lives; anything you want.”

“It’s a little late for cutting deals, don’t you think?”

At the sound of Poe's voice, Kylo felt the grip on his wrist go white. Hux released him seconds later, snatching back to face the door fully. Kylo mirrored him, and watched the Knights part to allow the Commander through. Rey followed, and Finn behind her. The three of them lined in front of the women, blasters ready at their hips.

“ _You_ ,” Hux spat, and Ren wasn't sure which of them it was meant for.

Dameron picked up the line, looking more wily than Kylo had seen him in months.

“Miss me, General?”

“Grand Marshall,” Hux corrected, as compulsory as he'd been with Kylo.

Poe held up a hand. “My mistake,” he drawled. “Why don't you make this easy and put your hands up?”

“Make what easy?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Dameron gestured to the ship through the window with his blaster, and Hux barely schooled a flinch. “We're taking that, and you. You’re not leaving this planet a free man.”

Armitage scoffed, the noise falling flat. Catty to the man's back, Kylo could see the plain between his shoulders stitching tight. 

“Aren't you forgetting someone?” the man asked.

Dameron titled his head. “Who?”

“Kylo,” Hux breathed, the name like a prayer, and Ren felt the floor fall out from under him. 

What had Leia said? _Nothing will prepare you_ \-- He didn't want to see this, not the end at least. He wished one of the Knights would use their power to put him under, or that Dameron would knock the man out; anything but drag this to its messy end. But none of the women moved and Poe, enjoying the game now, didn't either.

“What about him?”

“The Knights might've betrayed me, but they won't turn on him.” Hux shook his head. “You can't take us both.”

“Oh,” the Commander said slowly. “You think the Knights sold you out, and that Ben was our prisoner still.” He tongued the point of one tooth, mouth curling in a mean grin. “You’re one dumb son of a bitch, you know that?”

Hux froze, drawing a quick, icy breath. Like a lover in a holovid, Kylo thought stupidly, catching their beau in the act. His face fell, mouth slackening in shock, and Ren didn't know what was worse: the defeated slump of his shoulders, or the way his eyes, even from this angle, already seemed overwet.

“Ben,” Hux repeated, the name like bitter herbs. “I see.”

“Hand over your gun, then. Solo: if you don't mind.”

Poe motioned for him to disarm Hux, and Kylo's gut clenched. He wanted to say that he did mind, actually, that one of the Knights could just as easily--

He tamped down the impulse. The mission had been his idea, one he'd defended even when General Organa had come to talk him down. It was too late to walk back now; besides, what would Rey think, or Finn? _Coward _, his mind supplied, _too weak to look a prisoner in the eye_. What good we he be to them then?__

____

____

Swallowing around the tightness in his throat, Kylo stepped forward. He came to Armitage's side, nodding to the pocket his blaster was in. 

__“Give it to me,” he said, gently as he could. “You know you have to.”_ _

__Hux sniffed loudly, and though he did his best to avert his gaze Ren could see his face was wet. The color had come back to it: a high, shameful red, so bright it must've burned. He looked miserable, mortified, and Kylo couldn’t help but feel the same. Even at their most intimate he'd never seen the man cry, and the sight of it now was repulsive._ _

__“Don't make this worse."_ _

__Hux shoved a hand into the pocket at that, pulling the gun free. Dameron, Finn, and Rey angled theirs up in response. They trained the noses expertly-- at his shoulder, hip, and thigh--, prepared to incapacitate if he took aim. Armitage scowled at the line of them before turning back to Ren. He looked between the man and his weapon a moment, then breathed deep, flipped the handle of it out. Grateful for the apparent submission, Kylo moved in to take it._ _

__He felt the impact before the swing registered: a sharp crack of metal against the line of his cheek. Pain flared his vision white and he stumbled back, throwing a hand out for balance. Hux gave him no time to recover. Kylo heard the heavy advance of his boots, and seconds later another whip fell across his face. He grunted, tasting blood, and fell against the wall._ _

__“Pig!” Hux spat, ignoring Dameron’s bark for him to stand down. “You’d have had your throat cut in your sleep if it wasn’t for me.” He took Ren by the hair with his free hand, jerking his head up. Kylo groaned, both at the pain and the slick tang of blood, and Armitage’s snear deepened. He looked wild now, eyes bright with malice even through tears. “I protected you; I _fucked_ you. Who else would’ve let--”_ _

__“Hux!”_ _

__Poe’s voice grated like metal, and Hux’s slacked at the sound. Or rather, that’s what Ren thought. When his vision cleared, however, the real cause became clear. Dameron had crossed the room to lay his blaster against the man's temple, and the shock had stayed his hand. His own blaster, which was poised to come down on Kylo’s face again, hung pinned in the air._ _

__“I want you to listen to me,” Dameron said, more calmly now that Hux had gone still. “Can you do that?” He adjusted his grip, pressing the barrel more firmly to the man’s skull, and Hux whimpered in reply. “Good, because in about thirty seconds I’m going to lay you out. That’s just a fact; nothing you can do about it. But you do have some options.”_ _

__He took Hux by the collar, dragging him back a few steps. Grateful for the distance, Kylo sagged against the wall, forcing himself to breath through his throbbing nose._ _

__“You can either drop the blaster,” Dameron continued, “and wake up in a few hours with a knot on your head, or you can keep it, and I’ll blow a hole in you so wide I can spit through it. What’s it going to be?”_ _

__Hux made a pitiful, choked sound, and dropped the blaster immediately. Poe kicked his foot out to knock it out of range, then brought the handle of his own down on the back of the man’s head. It smacked like stone, and Armitage wobbled on his feet before collapsing. Poe released his hold on the man’s coat halfway down, letting him crumple. After watching a moment to make sure he didn’t stir, Dameron holstered his blaster and turned back to the others._ _

__“Finn, Suu--” he gestured to Hux with his foot. “Get him out of here. I don’t want to see him again until we fly out.”_ _

__Grateful for direction, the two sprang forward. They each took an arm, working him over their shoulders before dragging him from the room. Poe followed them to the door, leaning out to make sure they cleared the hall. When he was satisfied he popped back in to address Rey and Anat, who, Kylo noticed, had linked arms. Their elbows knocked together, fingers digging tight into one another's hands. Had one of them tried to break rank when Hux attacked him, and the other dragged her back to safety? Kylo wouldn’t be surprised._ _

__“Can you two bring him to the med wing? I want to check him out.” The women nodded, and Poe clapped them both on the shoulder. “Take your time, alright? I’ll, ah--” He paused, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll just be setting up.”_ _

__Giving Kylo a final, almost abashed look, Poe slipped from the room, beckoning for the rest of the Knights to follow. They did so without question, calling after him for direction-- should they power down the ship, or prep the med wing? Monitor Hux or prepare for the coming morning’s flight?-- leaving Kylo, Anat, and Rey alone in the control room. The two women watched him warily for a moment, listening to the odd pattern of breath through his swelling nose._ _

__“You’ll have to come to me,” he said, more to break the tension than anything. The anxious track of their eyes twisted his gut, and he’d had enough of that already. “I’ll be sick if I try.”_ _

__Spurred by the words, the women unlinked their arms and came to his side, working beneath his shoulders. The final angle was wrong-- Anat had nearly a foot on Rey, and had to walk with her knees bent to keep Ren’s shoulders level-- and it took several stumbling minutes for the three of them to find their rhythm. The women were persistent, however, and by the time they reached the end of the hall they had him securely on his feet._ _

__“You’re doing well,” Rey cooed at his ear, hoisting him higher to relieve the strain on Anat’s knees._ _

__“Yes,” the Knight agreed, a tease shining through her glum tone. “You haven’t so much as gagged yet.”_ _

__Kylo snorted, ignoring the pain it spiked behind his nose, but didn’t respond._ _

__Instead, he adjusted his hold on the women and drew them tight, letting their warm, familiar press smooth out some of the misery from the night._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate description: In which Leia was, as usual, 100% right.
> 
> Also, I didn't factor in the conclusion last time, so here's an accurate count: We now only have 4 chapters left in the whole fic. Can y'all believe it?? I can't.
> 
> If you're like me, and a little bummed the story is about to wrap up, never fear! I've got some one shots planned-- just some deep cuts of stuff I wanted to do in this story but didn't have the narrative space for-- that I'm going to be working on once I wrap everything up. Some other, free standing stuff is in the works too, but my most pressing ideas are basically CoS extras.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Poe tries, three times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little less action-packed than the last! I figured we all could use a break from the stress, haha.
> 
> I used the little bit of downtime to explore Ben and Poe's dynamic, since there hasn't been much opportunity for them to bond. They're definitely closer and more comfortable with one another than at the beginning, but the last few months have been formative for their dynamic, and last week's chapter was-- at least in Poe's mind-- a turning point for the two. So if I got a little wrapped up in the boys, forgive me. I really love how they've developed in relation to one another over the course of the fic (if you'd asked me way back in December if I ever thought they'd get along, my answer would be VERY different than it is now), and I wanted to play with it a bit.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! And let me know what you think.

The following days passed in a blur, though that, Kylo supposed, might’ve had something to do with the exhaustion.

Poe tended him promptly that night, wheeling him under a glaring halogen in the chair his escort dumped him in. He prodded the bruising along his cheek, testing for breaks in the bone. He found nothing, which Kylo knew was lucky. Hux’s swing had been furious, and could’ve easily cracked the delicate bone. His nose, however, was at a miserable angle, and he didn’t need Dameron’s grimace to know it. He’d had trouble breathing since the first blow, and had broken it enough times before to guess why.

“I’ll have to reset it,” the Commander said apologetically, running his fingers along the crooked bridge.

Kylo tightened his grip on the arms of the chair. It would hurt: the initial snap, of course, but also the deep sinal ache that followed. Ren hated that most: the shooting pain of every breath, tenderness blooming out and lingering for days. Still, if that was the worst that came of his and Hux’s altercation, Kylo knew he should be grateful. The man could’ve chosen to shoot him instead, and at that close of range-- Poe's reflexes be damned-- he’d have certainly been killed.

He muttered for Dameron to get on with it, steeling himself against the pain. It came quick. Poe tightened his grip and snapped the appendage in place as soon as he’d been given permission, holding it firm as he called for Rey to fetch medical tape. Kylo grit his teeth, gagging a little as a fresh flow of blood ebbed out. It'd been dammed by the break, he supposed, and the resetting had released it. It leaked in thick strings down his chin, but he didn't wipe clean. Dameron wouldn't suffer movement until the job was done.

Tearing the tape Rey brought with his teeth, Poe laid several long, securing strips across the bridge of Kylo's nose.

“It’s not pretty,” he admitted, leaning back to admire his work. “But it's straight.”

Kylo leaned aside to spit blood. “Thank you.”

Dameron clucked his tongue at that, frowning at the smear on Kylo's chin and mouth. Tugging his sleeve down over his hand, he reached out, grimacing when Ren instinctively flinched.

“Hold still,” he grumbled.

Ren obeyed, feeling a little foolish when he realized Poe only meant to wipe him clean. The rough fabric irritated his skin, but Kylo bore it, letting Dameron buff out the blood.

“It’ll stain,” he warned, stiffening as the man brushed below his aching nose.

Dameron shrugged. “My fault, anyway.”

Kylo considered asking what he meant, but the man was already pulling back to dig through a metal tower of drawers. He picked through the bottles, skimming labels and setting several aside before his fingers found their mark. Making sure the lid was secure, he tossed a small, glass bottle to Ren.

“Two of those,” he instructed. “Twice a day.”

Kylo turned the bottle to read the label himself. He’d rarely been allowed medication, even for the brightest pains. Snoke was averse to it, and as a result Ren had grown so himself. There was clarity in pain, its sharpness an easy lead to follow out of stasis or fear. With the ache in his sinuses already compounding, however, he had to admit it was tempting.

“For how long?”

“Until the pain goes, I guess.” Kylo frowned, and the man amended quickly. “Look, I’m not a medic. Just take some now, alright? You can get a second opinion on Belsavis.”

He wasn’t convinced, but Dameron’s tone brooked no argument. He stood over him again, arms crossed and looking pointedly at the bottle. When it was obvious that the Commander had no intention of letting him up until he’d taken a dose, Kylo obliged. Cracking the bottle, he popped two of the almond shaped pills in his mouth, letting some of the bitter coating melt before swallowing dry. Poe hovered, mistrustful; rolling his eyes, Ren opened wide to prove the pills hadn’t been pocketed.

“There,” Dameron said. “Wasn’t hard, was it?”

Kylo scoffed, air like a burst of flame through his nose. He felt like a child being put to bed. “No, sir.”

Dameron’s eyes narrowed, trying to parse out if he was being teased. He gave it up, however, and backed away so Kylo could rise.

“You should get some sleep,” he said, glancing between Ren and Rey. “Both of you. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow’s going to be longer.”

Kylo was inclined to agree. Once Hux was back on Belsavis, he doubted the council would want to waste time. There’d be a debriefing at least, and likely a meeting to follow. After making planetfall, there was no telling how long they’d be kept from bed. The only sure opportunity for sleep was now, and the night was already nearing its dark middle.

Taking the Commander’s cue, Kylo pushed out of his chair and made for the door. Rey was waiting there already, propping it open with her back. She’d been hovering at it since handing over the tape, obviously eager to put him to bed. She put a hand on his back as he neared to usher him through, calling goodnight to Poe around his shoulder. After waiting for the man to return it, she pivoted in the door and pressed Ren more firmly, all but marching him back to the hut.

She softened when they reached it, running ahead to open the door. Kylo frowned a little, feeling more and more as though she and Dameron were conspiring to embarrass him.

“He didn’t break my arms,” he muttered, ducking to step through

Rey rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored the words. Ren supposed that was fair; there was no real bite to them, anyway. He felt heavy, sick still, and the tinny beating guilt in his chest had yet to abate. He wanted to fall in bed and let the medication drag him down to sleep. He wanted-- if she’d be so kind-- for Rey to lay down with him, and press the warm line of her body against his. He’d offered earlier, but she hadn’t said either way. There’d been other, more pressing issues at hand, and now-- well. Kylo wouldn’t be surprised if she went back to the barracks after putting him to bed. Mission success aside, it had been a miserable night.

He peeled off his shirt, careful to tent it as he dragged it over his head. He felt Rey’s eyes on his exposed back, the bore of her concentration between his shoulders. He hesitated with his fingers on his belt, calling to her over his shoulder.

“My offer stands.” He unbuckled the heavy strap and popped the buttons, turning to sit on the edge of the cot. “You can stay if you’d like.”

“Do you want me to?”

He kicked off his boots before answering. “Yes,” he said. “But don’t let that bully you. If you prefer to be alone--”

“I don’t,” she interrupted.

“Make yourself comfortable, then.” He lifted his hips, shoving his pants down to his ankles and stamping free. Once they’d worked loose, he groaned and swung into bed. “I doubt I’ll be awake much longer.”

The heaviness in his legs had crept up, worming through his fingers, biceps, and shoulders. He felt thick, syrupy, and a little drunk. The bitterness of the pill on his tongue was nearly gone, replaced by a pleasant tang; not unlike the taste of wine. He hummed at the thought and closed his eyes, imagining the dark spill of General Organa’s private stores. The smell of a freshly uncorked bottle, a braided candle sizzling as it was doused, her and Han’s young, sweet faces swallowed as the light went out.

Beside him the pillows shifted and Kylo started, eyes snapping open at the disturbance. But it was only Rey, who’d stripped down to her underclothes to clamber in bed. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, burrowing into the blankets. “I didn’t realize you were already asleep.”

Had he been? That would explain the shifting visions-- memory running out ahead, preparing a dream--, but it was rare for him to drift so quickly. Even after a full day of training it often took him an hour to fall asleep. Perhaps he should’ve halved Dameron’s dose.

_Pills_ , he meant to say, but his tongue laid like lead in his mouth, and already his eyes were falling closed again. Rey must have heard it, because she shook with a laugh that, pressed against him as she was, he felt more than heard. 

“Go back to sleep,” she soothed, breath hot against his neck.

She draped one leg over his and snaked an arm across his belly. Her nails worked circles into the skin there, occasionally dipping low to catch in the patch of dark, coarse hair. Kylo groaned, feeling boneless. She could gut him, he thought, and be halfway done before he gathered the strength to struggle. 

She shifted to slot herself completely against his hip, and the morbid thought melted. Breathing deep to catch the smell of her hair, he focused on the clean, grassy scent and let himself drift.

Dameron sent for them later the next day than expected. By the time Finn came to the door-- pausing to knock this time, Kylo noted with a smirk-- the sun was slanting high through the windows. The morning chill had gone from the air, warming the hut to a low, easy glow. Not noon yet, but nearing it, and the realization effectively tore Kylo and Rey from sleep.

Spurred by the lateness of the call, they rose quickly. They scrambled back into their clothes and boots and holsters, and it was almost comical how much they got in one other’s way. They bumped shoulders and knocked feet, spinning into each other’s chests, unused to accounting for the other’s body. If they’d had more time, the novelty might’ve been thrilling. As it stood, Kylo couldn’t help but cuss at the inconvenience.

When they managed to dress, they hurried to the courtyard where Finn was waiting, still brushing their hair out with their fingers. He led them to the far side of the barracks where Hux’s ship sat; when it came into view, Kylo was surprised to see their ship had been brought around with it. Upon closer inspection, in fact, there seemed to be little left to do. Both ships were open and loaded, with their designated crews lounging on the ramps. The Knights were huddled on Hux’s, chatting and occasionally peering back into the passenger hold-- where Armitage, knocked out by some sedative, was bound--, and Poe was on theirs: flat on his back with one knee bent, staring into the trees.

“You could’ve woken us sooner,” Kylo said, coming to lean over the edge.

His shadow fell over Dameron’s face, and the man’s nose scrunched. After a moment, he tore his attention from the canopy to peer up at Ren. 

“You needed sleep,” he said, pushing up onto his elbows. “Besides, your girls are tanks. They had most of the loading done before I’d finished dosing Hux.”

Kylo couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at that. The Knights had spent long, thankless years training. Even Malka, who looked childish next to her sisters, could carry him if the need presented. They’d been underappreciated as extensions of the Order. Most either dismissed the women as his pet project, or avoided them for fear of their strength; it was heartening to see Dameron do neither. The Knights were skilled warriors, expert tacticians, and good company besides. Properly motivated, they were indispensible, a fact the Commander didn’t seem to have missed.

“I'm glad you've found use for them.”

The other man shrugged, rolling to sit up fully. “Wasn’t hard. I take all the muscle I can get. But we should get going.” He whistled to the Knights, motioning for them to board. “I told General Organa we’d be back tonight, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

If he and Rey had been sent for earlier, they wouldn’t be running that risk. Ren didn’t voice the opinion, though. Teasing aside, he was grateful for the sleep. The pills had made it dreamless and deep, and despite the returning throb he felt well rested. Inclining his head obediently, he waited for Poe to hop to his feet and followed him, Rey and Finn in tow, into the ship.

 

 

“Can I talk to you?” Dameron asked Kylo, cutting the conversation he’d been having with Rey short. “Alone?”

They’d been in flight several hours then, the yawn of space pressing in through the plexi. They hadn’t yet hit lightspeed-- Poe liked to save that for the end of a journey, in case fuel levels had been grossly miscalculated--, so there was little to the view. No bright shards of light running along with them, fractured colors blurring out the void; only blackness, broken occasionally by the distant shimmer of stars. 

Dameron and Finn had taken the cockpit after boarding, and hadn’t left their posts or spoken much since. Kylo caught the occasional word, and now and then the low rumble of a laugh, but apart from the whir of the engines the ship was largely silent. He and Rey mirrored it, content with the quiet and the press of one another’s thighs. They did, however, break it occasionally to guess the names of stars or discuss something Rey remembered having read. 

It was one of these sporadic discussions Poe interrupted, and at the sound of his voice both Rey and Kylo stiffened. When had the man slipped from the cockpit? Ren hadn’t heard so much as a stir in it in half an hour.

“Of course, Commander,” he said, recovering quickly. 

“Good. Scoot over, and Rey--” He jerked his head toward the cockpit. “Keep Finn company. I don’t want him falling asleep up there.”

The woman looked between them a moment then slipped from her seat, glancing over her shoulder suspiciously as she made her way to the cockpit. Kylo took her spot at the window, clearing the aisle seat for Poe. The man stood a second longer, as though unsure, but eventually lowered himself into it. Once settled, he cleared his throat.

“How, ah-- how’s your nose?”

Kylo quirked a brow. “Fine.”

“Did the pills help?”

“Yes.” He paused, then tacked on: “Thank you.”

Dameron made a noncommittal sound, and a few beats of silence fell between them. It was, Kylo realized, the first time in over a year they’d been alone. Rey and Finn were at hand, of course, but already the two were absorbed in one another. They chittered in the cockpit, Rey having taken Dameron’s seat, and Kylo knew nothing short of a shouting match would draw their attention now.

“Commander--” he began, hoping to steer the conversation out of gridlock.

The other man rolled his eyes and cut him off. “You’re not a rookie, Solo. My name is fine.”

“Dameron, then. You had something to discuss?”

“Yea,” the man said slowly. “I do.” He licked his lips, shifting in the seat. Tucking one leg under, he turned to face Kylo. “It’s about Hux.”

Ren felt his shoulders draw tight against the plexi. “What about him?”

He couldn’t imagine the two had had much opportunity for conversation. Armitage was delivered unconscious to the cellar, and as far as Kylo knew was alone there all night. The two had been alone in the med wing, of course; who knew how many minutes it’d taken to mix and administer the sedative, and how long after Hux had fought slipping under. Still, Kylo couldn’t imagine what the man might’ve said to warrant intervention.

Poe gnawed his lip. “I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have asked you to be bait.”

Kylo relaxed against the window, slackening in relief. Whatever he’d expected Dameron to say, that certainly wasn’t it.

“You didn’t,” he reminded the other man. “I volunteered.”

“In an open forum, where we were tossing around ideas. I could’ve said no.”

That was true, though where this regret stemmed from Ren couldn’t guess. They’d gotten what they wanted. Hux was a prisoner of the Resistance now: his guard rotting beneath the skirt of the Nightmare Lands, and his regime soon to knocked across the jaw. 

“Why should you have?”

“Conflict of interest, for one.” Poe tongued the back of his teeth. “You should’ve told me; you know that, right? Relax,” he added, holding up a hand when Kylo made to defend himself. “I also should’ve asked.”

“You suspected?” Kylo asked, heat blooming up his neck. Dameron was the last person he wanted to have this conversation with.

“The private line made me wonder.”

Of course it did. Kylo didn’t want to think about how many of the others had seen through that as well.

“Why didn’t you say something, then?”

“Because,” Poe sighed, “If I asked, and I was right, I couldn’t have let you try it. You sounded so sure--” He broke off, mouth twisting in displeasure. “I wanted a win. A real one; not another temporary setback like we’ve been getting. This was the best shot we had, and I let my feelings cloud my judgement.”

Kylo chewed his tongue, unsure of what to say. He wished Dameron hadn’t sent Rey away, or that the woman wasn’t too engrossed with Finn for him to snag her attention. Poe rarely spoke so freely with him, and to have him do so now was almost unsettling.

“You took a risk,” he said after a while. “All leaders do. It’s the only way to make progress.”

“You could’ve died, Ben. If Hux hadn’t been mad enough to want to hit you first, your brains would be all over the wall right now.”

Ren swallowed. He’d tried not to think of how close to death he’d been. It was a standard risk, and one he’d run a thousand times over the years. The thought of it happening then, though, in view of Rey and Finn-- 

A hush fell over the cockpit, Finn and Rey’s conversation skittering to a halt. Kylo spared it a glance, and saw the two of them peaking around the backs of their chairs. Dameron’s voice must have carried; Ren wasn’t surprised. It’d pitched up, colored with annoyance. Grimacing at the attention, Poe took a centering breath before continuing.

“My lapse in judgement put you at risk,” he said, voice low again. “As your Commander, and as someone who asks for your trust--” He met Kylo’s gaze and shook his head. “That’s unacceptable.”

“Poe--”

“Let me finish.”

Kylo’s jaw clicked shut, and the other man pressed on.

“Guessing what I did, it was negligent to go ahead with this. Negligent at _best_. At worst, it was a spit in the face of every time you put yourself on the line for our team.” His fingers twitched on the seat between them, and Kylo wondered if he’d been about to reach out. Dameron was tactile; that much was clear from how freely he touched Finn. How hard was it to quash the impulse then? “I’m sorry, and I’m promising right now to never put you in that position again.”

Poe’s voice was earnest, and so sincere that Kylo almost reached for him instead. His hand was still scrambling, nails picking at the cushion, and Ren wasn’t sure it was entirely due to this incident. Dameron was no stranger to casualty. He’d lost scores of men before due to errors in judgement, and last night undoubtedly dragged the old miseries to light. Kylo shared the blame, of course; he’d chosen not to disclose the nature of his and Hux’s prior relationship. Still, by Dameron’s fidgeting he knew Poe considered himself most responsible. 

“I accept,” he said, not wanting to argue the point. It would only embarrass Poe, and break the bridge he was trying to build between them. “And promise not to withhold anything vital going forward.”

“Thank you.” Poe rapped his knuckles on the seat, finally drawing his hand back. “Thanks. I, ah-- I should get back to the pit.”

Kylo hummed. He didn't want to dismiss the man, but he also wanted to put this exchange behind him. He and Dameron were unlikely to ever be as comfortable with one another as they each were with Finn and Rey, and the intimacy of the moment made Ren itch. 

Seeming to share the sentiment, Dameron slid from the seat and fell back on teasing.

“I'll send Rey back,” he said, patting the seat. “You can go back to cuddling, or whatever it is you do.”

Kylo blanched, and Poe's grave expression broke.

“I'm kidding, Solo.” He smirked a little crookedly, exposing the point of a sharp tooth. “I could probably guess what you do.”

“Please don't,” Kylo muttered, avoiding the other man's gaze. It was playfully predatory, and too knowing by half. Dameron was more perceptive than he'd given him credit for, and Ren was sure if he looked at him, he'd give even more of himself away. 

“Maybe later, huh? This isn't the best place for boy’s talk.”

Few places were, in Kylo's opinion, and he didn't bother to respond. Silence didn't deter Dameron, however. Smirk widening, he winked, then reached over the seat to cuff Kylo's shoulder.

When he turned once more for the cockpit, Kylo raised his own hand to brush the point of contact, and wondered what he'd done to warrant it.

 

 

Arriving at Belsavis was as chaotic as Ren expected.

A line of white clad soldiers awaited them on the landing pad, faces veiled and weapons ready at their hips. Kylo's gut turned at the sight. Two years had done little to dampen the terror of the memory of his own first landing, and though the soldiers were meant for Hux, he couldn't help but fear they’d turn on him when the ship’s ramp went down.

Baseless, of course, as the men hardly gave their ship a thought. Dameron had sent word ahead of who was aboard each ship. After guiding them down and seeing Poe at the helm, the guards devoted their attention to the one touching down behind them. The mass of men-- some thirty, by Kylo's count-- jogged around the wings, fanning out around the Knight's vessel as it settled. When the ramp lock disengaged, hissing its release, a smaller group broke off and swept inside.

Dameron didn't allow his crew to linger and watch. The nightly storm was kicking up over the hills, and none of them were dressed to weather it. Bundling as tight as they could, the four of them fled the ship. Leaving it open for the docking crew to bring around, they scurried into the compound’s open throat, entrusting the Knights and escort with the transportation of the prisoner.

The council was waiting for them in the docking bay. General Organa greeted them each as they approached, and the advisors flanking her-- the Twi’lek Commander Eeri, the interrogator, and a handful of other dour looking men and women-- echoed it. She faltered when she came to Kylo, frowning at the bruises mottling his cheeks and the hasty set of his nose. She beckoned for him to come closer, grabbing him by the chin when he was in range and tilting him to assess the damage. The rest of the council, to their credit, stepped away and made themselves busy with debriefing the others.

“Pistol whip?” she asked, pressing a bruise to test swelling.

He hissed, but didn’t twist from her grip. “Yes.”

She hummed, lightening her touch to trace the bruising to the edge of the tape. Kylo tensed, felt the creep of an old fear: gnarled hands on the move, angrily swarming an injury, seeking the epicenter of pain to--

“You’re lucky Poe’s a half-decent field medic,” she said, severing the thought. Her fingers fell back, and after patting his jaw she released him altogether. “But you should still visit the med wing later. I’m sure we have something better than tape to keep the setting straight.”

Kylo didn’t doubt that, but still-- “Aren’t you going to say it?” Her head cocked curiously, and he continued, gesturing to his beaten face. “You were right.”

“What would be the point?” 

Gloating, for starts. The woman had rarely missed an opportunity to do as much with Han. Seeming to guess the thought, Leia shook her head.

“Believe it or not,” she drawled, “I’d have preferred my son not to come back with his face smashed in.” 

He felt a twinge of guilt, and lowered his gaze in deference. Leia sighed and took his chin again.

“Don’t give me that,” she said, tilting his head up before pulling away. “Just go to the med wing later. We’ve got a meeting to attend now, and I want to know--” She tapped her own nose. “--exactly how that happened.”

Ending their aside, Leia rejoined the rest of the council, motioning for Kylo to follow. Once merged, they retreated into the belly of base, taking the first open conference room they could find. They settled at the table inside, Leia and her council taking one end and Dameron's team the other. It reminded Ren of a hearing, the few he'd been privy to at least. Hux had been at the center then, in a seat much like Leia's, glaring at some poor soul who'd fumbled the Order into embarrassment. 

Thankfully, Leia and her counsel were less searing. Even the interrogator, who was a brute in Kylo's memory, sat back casually as they spoke. Dameron and Kylo supplied most of the detail, though Finn and Rey chimed in occasionally when there was a question of the Knights movements or the disposal of Hux's guard. Knowing better than to spare the detail again-- he'd promised transparency, after all, and it’d played an integral part in Armitage's capture-- Kylo didn't bother to gloss over the particulars of how Hux had been lured. Having already discussed it with him days before, Leia reacted minimally to the information. Some of the others, however, shifted in their chairs.

“And you didn't think,” Erie asked, “to share this with your Commander beforehand?”

“I was prepared to discuss it if he asked,” Kylo said, “but no, I didn’t intend to bring it up.”

Erie nodded, her eyes shifting to the man at her right. Sour faced, graying at the temples; he cleared his throat and sat forward.

“Understand: We don't fault your wish for privacy. However--”

“Ben and I discussed this already,” Poe interrupted. He waited until he had his full attention before continuing. “And he apologized to my satisfaction.”

The old man glowered a moment before sniffing. “If you say. Still, it warrants saying.” He looked to Kylo again. “It would be unwise to make the same mistake again.”

Kylo nodded his understanding, and Leia quickly pushed them along.

“That aside,” she said, “I think all agree this was a success. The question now is how to proceed.”

The interrogator shrugged. “I think that's obvious.”

“Is it?” Leia glanced over at the man. “What do you suggest?”

Her tone was terse, but the man didn't seem surprised. Creative differences, Kylo supposed. General Organa was, for her own part, emphatically opposed to chemical induction. The fact didn't often matter, as few others on the council were as hesitant, but more than once Ren had heard her argue against the interrogator's methods.

“As yet, our drug hasn't failed to produce results,” the man said. “Our supply has reached critical levels, and I'm loath to waste it.” The man stroked the line of his lip with his one knuckle, and Kylo barely schooled a shudder. He didn’t want to think of how the stores had been depleted. “But this could be worth the risk.”

“Our supply _was_ critical,” Leia corrected, eyes hardening. “And you _did_ waste it. That noxious homebrew you’ve been using ever since isn’t fit for a rancor.”

The man rolled his eyes, and when Leia’s expression darkened Kylo felt his own blood slow.

“You’re being overly critical, General.”

“Am I?” She turned to face the man fully. “Remind me, Tindale: how many Subjects has that rat poison killed?”

The man dodged the question-- answer enough, Kylo thought--, and changed tack. “I wasn’t aware Hux’s safety was such a concern for you.”

“My concern is that you’ll botch this, as you’ve been wont to do lately.”

Tindale’s frown deepened, but he refused to be beaten. “Perhaps Ben could help, then. Commander Dameron tells me he has some skill in interrogation. With his abilities, we wouldn’t need my...rat poison, as you call it.”

“Absolutely not.” Both Leia and Tindale turned at that, eyes lighting on Poe. The man faltered under their joint gaze, but recovered quickly. “You were just on his case about being too involved with Hux. How would this be any different?”

“It wouldn’t be,” Leia said. “Which is why it isn’t happening.”

Tindale scoffed, crossing his arms. “What do you suggest, then? We don’t have time to wait Hux out.”

“No,” Dameron agreed. “But we’ve got a few days before his crew starts getting suspicious. Why rush?” He leaned forward in his seat, addressing the General directly now. “I say we let him sweat, see if he’s up to talking at the end of the week.”

“And if he isn’t?” Tindale asked, leaning in his chair to catch Poe’s attention.

“ _Then_ we think of something else.”

“Waste time, in other words,” the older man sneered. “I suppose that shouldn’t be surprising, coming from--”

“Quiet,” Leia snapped, cutting Tindale off. “Both of you.”

The two men’s jaws clicked shut, opting to glare at one another over the table instead. Leia’s attention darted between them a moment, ensuring neither would speak before continuing.

“I don’t like waiting either,” she allowed. “But I agree with Poe. There’s no sense rushing when we have the upper hand.”

Poe smirked, and Leia rolled her eyes.

“Don’t get cocky,” she snorted. “I’m not convinced a _month_ in a cell would loosen Hux’s tongue. We need a backup plan, I want you--” She paused, motioning to all four of them. “--to spend the meantime coming up with one.”

Kylo stiffened in his chair, and heard the rustle of Rey, Finn, and Poe doing the same. He agreed with Leia; knowing Hux, it was difficult to imagine him cracking after only a few days. The chances of him giving them anything were astronomically low; meaning, of course, that the ultimate success or failure of this endeavor rested on whatever he and the others could cobble together over the next few days.

“That’s a steep request, General,” he said carefully.

The corner of Leia’s mouth turned up. “You’re smart kids. You’ll think of something. But that--” She settled back in her chair, waving at them lazily. “Can wait until morning. You’ve all had a long day, and you,” she said, looking pointedly at Ren, “still need to visit the med wing.”

The four of them hovered on the edge of their chairs, unsure if they were being dismissed. After a moment, Leia sighed and pressed on more gently.

“Go,” she clarified, nodding to the door at their backs. “Get some rest. You’ve all earned it.”

Not wanting to linger any longer than necessary, they all rose at the dismissal, mumbling goodnight to the council. A trickle of replies came-- a few words, cut with grumbles and a few sullen nods-- but they only partially registered. Kylo was bone tired, both from travelling and the strain of his pain, and he could feel exhaustion radiating from the others as well. Rey’s shoulders sagged beneath its the weight, and Finn and Poe’s usually clever mouths were turned down and weary. The General was right: whatever they decided to do about Hux, it could wait. At least until the four of them had taken rest.

Giving the council a final, halfhearted wave, the four of them turned and slipped through the door, splintering off from one another for the night without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poe is a good noodle.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm on vacation this week and had a ton of time to write, so the update is coming a little early!
> 
> This chapter was super fun to write, though admittedly it's one of the heavier ones so far. I wanted to explore some of the reasoning behind Leia and Tindale's strained dynamic, and of course Hux isn't having the best time, so bear that in mind! Nothing graphic, of course, just figured I'd warn you.
> 
> As always: let me know what you think, and thank you so much for reading!

None of them saw Hux again for three days; still, the man's shadow hung over them like a rope.

Most of Commander Dameron's time was spent in conference, either with the council or privately with General Organa. Mediating between the two, Kylo supposed. Tindale had won most of the council over with his plans for interrogation, and though he'd ceded bringing Ren’s abilities into it he was still determined to go ahead. Leia, by contrast, was vocally opposed. She maintained that Tindale’s draft-- a truth serum of his own mixing-- was too volatile, as likely to burst Hux’s heart as it was to yield any real information.

“It’s happened before,” Poe told them over lunch one afternoon.

They were in the mess hall then, huddled in a corner for privacy. Not that they needed seclusion for that. The mess rang with voices, bouncing off one another in a pulsing din. Since Voss’ evacuation Belsavis was swarming again, its corridors a knot of bodies most hours of the day. They could’ve shouted in the center of the room and still not drawn attention.

“How?” Rey asked around a mouthful of food. “We haven’t been taking prisoners.”

There hadn’t been much opportunity to. Their attacks had been mostly on small bases, and with how evenly matched their forces were it was rare for any Order affiliates to survive. Even on the rare occasions when there were survivors, Poe had refused. Their supplies were stretched too thin to support dead weight.

“No,” the Commander agreed. “But we aren’t the only ones running missions, remember?”

Rey and Finn hummed, apparently already aware, but Kylo’s brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

Dameron looked to him over the lip of his cup. “When our numbers started going up, Tindale requested a team of his own. The council approved, and he’s had at least a dozen excursions since.” Poe sipped his drink. “Non-combative, of course. The old bastard doesn’t have the guts.”

“What for, then?” Kylo asked. “Intel?”

If that was the case, he couldn’t have been very successful. The combative teams hadn’t moved on anything other than what he or the Knights had provided.

“That’s what he was approved for,” Finn grumbled.

Kylo’s attention darted to the man, who was only picking at his food. He jabbed his fork through the scraps, frowning deeply. He apparently disliked the interrogator as much as Poe did. Understandable. The Order employed dozens of similar men, and used them almost exclusively to monitor the Troopers. He wondered what sneering ghost Tindale recalled for the poor man.

“Like Leia said,” Poe continued, picking up the thread, “his serum is cracked. Nine times out of ten, the person dies before he can get anything out them.”

“And when they don’t?” 

“They babble mostly, or repeat the same few words. The council had had me listen to his recordings before in case they’d missed something, but there’s nothing to miss.” Dameron grimaced, shaking his head. “It’s useless. Always is.”

That explained the General’s hostility. Opposed as she was to chemical induction, she wasn’t a fool. She’d put aside her feelings on sensitive issues before, and if Tindale’s methods were yielding results, Kylo knew she’d do so again. His stubborn pursuit of something so fruitless, however, would grate her. That she hadn’t motioned to remove him from the council was nothing short of miraculous.

“Why are they siding with him now, then?”

“What choice do they have?” Rey chimed in. “It’s not as though we had another plan.”

That was true. Kylo’s thought began and ended with taking Hux alive. What might come later was just that, and a distraction he couldn’t afford while playing his part. Still, that the council was even considering such a disastrous plan was infuriating. If they allowed it and Hux died, what then? Someone new would slot into Armitage’s gap; someone that, after nearly two years, Kylo was unlikely to know. There’d be no hope of drawing them out as he had Hux. The Resistance couldn’t be so lucky twice.

“Not yet,” Poe said. “But we will. I’m not going to let that bastard blow this. We just--” He paused, scrubbing hard at his jaw. “We just need to think.”

That was easy enough to say, but Ren couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed. Dameron had stood firmly between himself and Tindale when he’d needed him; the least he could do was return the favor. Besides, the clock was set against them. Hux’s fate would be decided at week’s end whether they had a plan or not, and their best chance now laid in teamwork.

So they passed the following days together, or as much as they could. Poe was often away for hours at a time-- as their leader and intermediary, the demands on his time were greater-- but he sat with them when he returned. The four spent their afternoons springboarding off one another in the mess hall, training rooms, or one of their private suites; wherever they could find a quiet corner. 

It was, to Kylo’s dismay, largely unproductive. Apart from agreeing that Tindale shouldn’t be allowed to dose Hux, their visions for how to proceed varied greatly. They spent most of the time allotted to them by Leia arguing specifics: who should initially speak with Armitage, what questions to ask, if force should be applied when he inevitably didn’t answer, and what to do when the interview ended. It was a bitter discussion, but reached a tentative plateau the night before Hux was to be met. The four of them were exhausted by then, but their resolve was firm, and when they laid their plan before General Organa, they did so as a unit.

She received them in her suite, in the study from which all her other rooms branched out. It was late then, nearing midnight, but Leia didn’t seem to have been disturbed. She was in her dress still, hair neatly pinned, and bent over her desk as though hours of work still laid ahead. Perhaps they did. She was, as ever, a busy woman.

“You have something for me?” she asked, looking up from her datapad.

“I think so,” said Poe, glancing aside at his team.

They’d formed a line in front of the desk, shoulders pressed together for support or courage, or both. The last was most likely. Anxiety over the coming morning had worked as deeply into their bones as weariness, weakening them at the knees. If they didn’t have to present to the General, Kylo doubted any of them would still be on their feet.

“Excellent.” She tapped the pad to power it down, then leaned back in her chair. “Let’s hear it.”

Dameron hesitated, unsure now that he had the woman’s attention. It was only after Finn jabbed his ribs that he shook himself and answered.

“First,” he said slowly, “we’ve decided Ben should be the one to talk to Hux.”

Leia’s brow quirked, and her mouth hardened almost imperceptibly. “You’re going with Tindale’s plan, then.”

Kylo felt the pressure in the room drop as Poe scrambled to amend.

“Not his,” he corrected. “Ours. We think Hux is more likely to respond to someone familiar. Besides, it’ll get Tindale off our back. If Ben leads, it’ll look like a concession.”

“You agreed to this?” Leia asked, eyes cutting to her son. He nodded, and her frown deepened. “Would you like to know how bad of an idea I think that is?”

Poe shrunk from the criticism, leaving Kylo to pick up the thread.

“I wouldn’t be any more involved than necessary, going forward.”

“You already are,” she scoffed. “Can you really do this? Tell me, honestly.” Leia shifted in her chair, expression stony. “Could you finish the job when he started to scream?”

Kylo swallowed, imagining Hux’s pitiful shriek reverberating on concrete. “No,” he said honestly. He’d sliced through the minds of dozens over the years, but never that of a former lover, and knew himself well enough. “But that isn’t our plan. I have no intention of splitting his mind, or breaching more than the surface.”

Leia sighed, but her relief dried up there. “Then you have no leverage. If you won’t force him--”

“He doesn’t know that,” Kylo interrupted. He stepped forward, bending to brace on the General’s desk. “What he _does_ know is my reputation. Hux sat in on many of my interrogations; he’s seen what I can do.” 

“So, what?” General Organa stared up at him. “You’re going to trick him?”

“If I can.” His jaw worked, the muscle pulling tight. “I can’t know for certain how he’ll react, but he knows now that I’m not above exploiting his weakness. Paired with his fear, that should be worth something.”

Leia hummed, her eyes losing focus. They fell to rest on his shoulder, glassy and distant; not for the first time, Kylo wondered who she saw when she looked at him.

“What are you hoping to gain from this?” she asked.

Dameron cleared his throat, daring to speak again. “Who he’s left in charge. What the chain of command looks like, how stable it is, if there’s a way to take it out at the knees.”

“And if he won’t give it to you?” She meant _when_ , and was only being polite. “What’s your back-up?”

“We show our hand,” Dameron said. Leia’s focus sharpened at that, cutting up from Ren’s chest to where the other man stood. “Make contact, let the Order we mean business.”

“Blow our cover, in other words.” She rubbed hard at the tender skin beneath her eyes. “ _Poe_ \--”

“Just hear me out,” Dameron interrupted. “Please.”

For a moment it looked as if she wouldn’t. After glancing at each of their faces, however, she sighed and motined for Dameron to proceed. He inclined his head gratefully and joined Kylo at the desk.

“If you let Tindale take a swing after us, Hux will die, and we still won’t have anything to show.” He licked his lips, daring to meet the General’s gaze. “But if you let us take him and establish contact from Voss, we might be able to wheedle something out of his second-in-command.”

Leia shook her head. “You’ve heard the Knights. Hux’s control of the Order has been unstable since he assumed it. You can’t bet on him being worth bartering for.”

“Leia,” Dameron insisted, leaning further into the table, “he means something to someone on that ship; he has to. He’d have been assassinated without a network, and I’ll bet on my life--” He clapped a hand over his heart. “--that that’s who he left in charge. When they see they’ve lost him, who knows what they’ll be willing to do.”

The General’s mouth twisted. “Yes,” she said flatly. “Who knows.”

A silence fell over the room then. Leia’s eyes tracked between Kylo and Dameron, both who were still bent over her desk. Behind him, Ren could feel Rey’s equally penetrating gaze on his neck. She was abuzz with nerves, fidgeting audibly at his back. Now and then Finn’s whisper cut the quiet, and Rey would skitter to a momentary halt before kicking back into gear. It was a horrible stretch, and to his left Kylo felt Dameron wilting in it. _Mistake_ , he thought, so loudly that Ren could hear, _all for nothing_.

“You realize,” Leia continued, snapping the tension, “that you wouldn’t just be sacrificing the compound. Half our territory, food, supplies, and weapons are on Voss now. Once our cover is blown, it’ll be too dangerous to go back for it.”

And unlikely that they even could, Kylo thought. The Order had no qualms about blowing planets to pieces. If they willed it, Voss and its millennia of history would go out like a light.

“I know,” Dameron said, voice low.

“We’d all be stuck here again,” she pressed on. “Three to a room, tightening our belts until the hysteria died down enough to find a replacement. You remember how miserable it was before.” The man nodded. “And you still think it’s worth the risk?”

“I do.”

She stared at him disbelievingly a moment before looking to Kylo. He nodded his agreement, as did Finn and Rey when the General peaked around to see them. She cussed under her breath, and Kylo wondered if she regretted having ask them to plan. Well, even if she did it was too late. It was well after midnight, and in approximately seven hours Hux’s cell would be opening; if not to them, then to Tindale. Her current frustration aside, Kylo knew which Leia would prefer.

“Be at the prison after breakfast,” she muttered, looking to Ren again. “And bring Rey. I don’t want you going in alone.”

“Yes, General. And the back up?”

“I’m reserving judgement.” She returned her attention to her datapad, tapping it to revive the program. “Report back when you’re done. I’ll make my decision then.”

 

 

 

Even with the comfort of Rey's heat on his ribs, Kylo slept fitfully through the night. 

It took him several hours to doze, by which time it was near enough to call time that he may as well have stayed awake. If they were on Voss, the night chill would've been beginning to break, and dew collecting on the sweet smelling grass. But this wasn’t Voss, he reminded himself as exhaustion finally dragged him down. It was Belsavis: bitter and eternally winter. There was no grass here, no tender, growing life. Even if a window had been set in the concrete, there’d be nothing but blizzard to see.

When their call came-- three sharp raps at the door, which he recognized as Captain Leena’s-- Ren was already half awake. The woman waited a respectable minute before punching his code, which was enough time for him to work free of Rey’s grip and swing his legs over the bed. He was sitting, hands working sleepily through his hair when the door opened. The harsh grate of it startled Rey from sleep, and she bolted up with a cuss.

Captain Leena halted at the sight of her, one foot on either side of the threshold. She gawked at Rey a moment: her disheveled hair, bare feet, the crinkling mylar pooling at her hips. Thankful for the combination of cold that’d kept them clothed, Kylo leaned back into Leena’s line of sight, waving for her attention.

Gathering herself, the woman averted her eyes and signed an apology for the intrusion. Ren dismissed it; it wasn’t her fault he hadn’t spent the night alone. He thanked her for the call, and in advance for her discretion. Unnecessary, of course. Leena was a professional, and a friend besides, but she obliged him anyway. Accepting his thanks and swearing off gossip, she bid them both good morning and left, sealing the door behind her.

He and Rey didn’t linger after that. Whatever peace the woman had found in sleep withered as the morning came into focus, and soon her shoulders were as tense as Ren’s. Eager for company and something to settle their guts, they washed and dressed in haste, hurrying to the mess where they suspected Finn was waiting. It was rare for either of them to beat him to breakfast, and today was no different. By the time they shuffled in, Finn had taken a corner table and stockpiled enough food for three. Grateful not to have to brave the line, they wove through the crowd to join him.

They ate in relative silence, content with each other’s company and to be buffeted by the room’s raucous ring. The three of them picked at their plates, taking perfunctory bites and sipping caf until they’d cleared what Finn had scrounged. They broke silence now and then, mostly to check the time or to answer a call from Dameron. He buzzed several times over breakfast, updating them on the progress of the operation.

“Leia’s contacting the guard now,” he said during his final comm. “When should she tell him to expect you?”

The static in the line trembled, feeding back against the crackle of another line. Between the two, Kylo could just catch the tripping notes of his mother’s voice. She and Poe were together still, and perhaps had been all night.

Kylo leaned over the table, in range of the comm Finn held out for him. “Tell him we’ll be there within the hour.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Ren rolled his eyes at the implication, however teasing, that Dameron was subordinate to him. He thought of returning the jab, but Dameron signed off too quickly for him to return the jab. In seconds the line was going dead, issuing a gleeful static spit before cutting out. Finn returned the comm to his pocket, and Kylo drew a long, slow breath.

“We should go,” he muttered, peeking aside to Rey.

The woman nodded, reaching over the table to pat Finn’s shoulder. She thanked him for the breakfast, promising to contact him the moment they’d finished with Hux. Finn smiled, but it was tight thing, not reaching the corners of his eyes.

“You better,” he said, only half teasing. He returned Rey’s affectionate tap, and slid his foot under the table to bump Kylo’s boot. He let the contact lie, pressing as surely into the other man as he did Rey. “Be careful, alright?”

There was no reason to be, no danger now that Hux was trapped, but Ren promised anyway. Lifting his boot, he brushed the toe against the other man’s ankle, feeling out the bump of the bone. Finn’s smile warmed at the touch, and he relaxed in his chair before motioning for them to go.

After that, they made their way quickly to the cells. Or Rey did, in any case. Kylo didn’t know the way. As they hadn’t taken prisoner since his arrival, there hadn’t been any need. She led him through the labyrinth, past the private halls and the great war room to a secluded, narrow set of stairs. It was steep and dimly lit, the bottom landing a mere suggestion set in a yellow glow; old light, reminiscent of candles. Great, fat bulbs of it would’ve lined the compound once, dimmed the sight of its inhabitants for centuries before the diodes and tubes were set. No one had bothered to swap them in the cells, apparently; Kylo didn’t blame them. It was an intensive modification, and wasteful when there was no point. What did prisoners need with white light?

He followed Rey down the stairs, keeping his hands on the wall as they went. There was no railing, but the corridor was close enough to brace. He traced it, fingers catching on grooves and chips in the ancient concrete, and prayed the steps hadn’t slicked with time. There was no guiding light-- only that which dead-ended at the top and bottom landings--, and no way to watch his steps. Rey moved confidently, however, almost jogging down the incline, leading him to believe there was no danger. Swallowing his discomfort, Kylo pressed his hands tighter against the walls and attempted to match her pace.

A guard was waiting for them at the root. His chair was propped against the wall around the corner, giving him the best view of both the stairs and the entrance to the cells. He was slouched in it, knees knocked wide, flicking absently at the screen of a datapad.

“Last on the left,” he mumbled. “The code’s 89736 if you want to go in, and there’s a panic button just outside the cell.” He flicked his eyes up from the screen, skating over Ren’s broad chest. “Doubt you’ll need it, though. Guy’s a twig.”

“Understood,” Rey said. “Let us in.”

The man nodded, scooting his chair back to expose a large button in the floor which he depressed with his heel. It beeped twice, then the door hissed and released, sliding open with a metallic whine. 

“I’m going to close it again once you’re in,” he warned as they turned. “Just knock on the window when you’re ready.”

Rey and Kylo hummed before stepping over the threshold. Once they’d cleared it, the guard stomped on the button again and the door squealed back to life, clamping like a shell behind them.

The light was worse here than in the hall. There were dozens of empty light mountings, and several with the half-shattered remains of bulbs still inside. Those that remained peppered the corridor between the cells, dotting it erratically. Shadow swarmed the edges of the glow, accentuating the glum. It was like a cave, Kylo thought, or a sealed up tomb. His gut twisted, and he took Rey by the wrist before venturing deeper.

“I forgot how horrible it was in here,” Rey whispered, peering into the darkness of the empty cells as they passed. The lights barely reached the center, leaving the back halves in shadow. “I wish they’d replace some lights, at least.”

“Unlikely. This is Tindale’s purview, isn’t it?” Rey nodded. “The gloom probably does half the work for him. When he can keep his catch alive, that is.”

Rey’s wrist tensed under his fingers, and he regretted saying it. She was as opposed to Tindale’s methods as Leia, and clearly didn’t care for being here. 

“I’m sorry. That was crass.”

“And true,” she muttered, skating over his apology. “He’s vile.”

Kylo didn’t disagree, but then again: “So is Hux.”

The man had kept his prisoners isolated in similar conditions, often for weeks at a time before setting Ren on them. _To ease your entry_ , he’d explained, which Kylo only half believed. His powers made taking what he wanted easy enough; besides, he’d seen the cameras Armitage kept in the cells. He did it because he liked it, Ren knew, enjoyed watching his prey for ticks before spoiling the game. He wondered if that’s what Hux thought this was, how harshly he’d strained his eyes searching for cameras. 

He wondered if the hammering of his heart would flag or redouble when he finally saw Kylo through the bars.

He didn’t have to speculate long. Hux was at the head of his cell when they reached it, crouching in the brightest point of light. He looked as if he’d been waiting for them, and perhaps he had. Kylo and Rey’s footsteps had cracked the quiet of the cellblock like stone. He recoiled when he saw them, releasing his whiteknuckle hold on the bars to skitter back. Hux didn’t abandon the light, but he did find the edge, glaring up at them from several feet back.

“Come to gloat?” he spat, voice hoarse from disuse.

His eyes darted over Kylo, sweeping for weapons. Telling, Kylo thought. He hadn’t brought anything but his saber, and that was clipped in plain sight. But it helped their cause for Hux to think he had more concealed, so he wouldn’t correct the thought.

He didn’t answer for a moment, surveying Hux in turn. The shadows beneath his cheekbones and eyes had deepened, and his knuckles were scuffed and cut. Otherwise, however, he seemed unharmed. He was a little more wan, but that wasn’t the fault of his host. Several bowls were stacked in the corner, their contents congealing and untouched. Armitage must have expected the food to be drugged. There was a jug of water there as well, but that had seen more use. Hux had hedged his bets there, daring to trust his jailers for the sake of avoiding dehydration. It was half empty, as though it was being carefully rationed.

“Not exactly.” 

Hux tensed at his voice, tearing his eyes away from where Ren and Rey’s hands met. Kylo, who hadn’t realized they were still touching, held the contact only a moment longer before releasing her.

“What, then? I can’t imagine you have any other reason to visit me.”

“Then your mind is slipping.” He stepped up to the bars, flipping back a panel to expose the keypad. He entered the code given to them by the guard before calling to Rey. “More light, please.”

She cocked her head, confused, and he motioned to her saber. Muttering _oh_ , she unsheathed it and activated the blade. It engaged with a bright, static whir, washing a few more feet of the cell in icy light. Hux scooted further back, squinting as his eyes adjusted. Kylo used the distraction to open the gate and slip inside, motioning for Rey to follow. He halted her in the open door, charging her with guarding it. She accepted with a nod, raising her saber to splash its light against the back wall.

“If you’re thinking of running,” Kylo said, catching Hux gazing hungrily at the opening by Rey’s knees. “I suggest you reconsider. The main door is sealed.”

Hux scoffed, tearing his eyes away from the gate. His cheeks flared hot, the color visible even in the bleaching light.

“Why are you here?” he asked again.

“I think you know.” Kylo crouched, meeting the other man at his level. Hux tensed, drawing his knees close and rocking back on his palms, prepared to scramble. “But maybe not. This _is_ a role reversal.”

He walked closer, a little graceless in the crouch. If Hux noticed his teetering, however, it didn’t diminish his nerves. The man’s nostrils flared and he rocketed back, only stopping when he met the wall. He jumped at the contact, then cussed, embarrassed by the reaction. Kylo lowered the rest of the way to his knees and closed their distance.

“Not for me,” he continued, warming to the theme, “but for you. You were usually there--” He gestured over his shoulder to where Rey stood in the door. “--if memory serves.”

“Best view,” Hux teased, though there was little heat in it. His chest rose and fell faster now with Kylo so close. “I’m sure your dog agrees. Or are you the dog still?” Kylo didn’t answer, letting the man run his petty course. “You are, aren’t you? Pay attention then, girl.” Hux dared to look away from Ren, speaking directly to Rey. “What’s feral always bites. I wonder who he’ll sell you to.”

“Enough.” 

The word came more harshly than Kylo intended, spiked by the heavy draw of Rey’s energy at his back. He didn’t have to turn to know she was sneering. The heat of it seared his neck, her disgust with the other man pooling wide. Hux winced, whether from the look Rey gave or the crack of Kylo’s voice, he wasn’t sure.

“I’d have thought you valued your skin more,” Ren continued, tone cooler. “You know better than to antagonize a captor.”

“Yes,” the other man answered, so low and quick that Kylo wondered if he realized he’d spoken at all.

“Make this easy, then, and save yourself some...discomfort.”

Hux went rigid, fixating on a crack in the floor. Close as they were, Kylo felt his energy drop, a downward rush of blood so fierce that Hux would've buckled were he on his feet.

“You wouldn't.”

“No?” Knowing it would unsettle the man, he snatched Hux’s chin and tugged him to attention. “Why else would I be here?”

Armitage didn't resist, likely for fear of the grip redoubling. He'd seen more than once what came of fighting Ren, and didn't care to have his jaw reset. He did refuse meet Kylo's gaze, however, focusing spitefully on his bruised nose instead.

“General Organa is opposed to enhanced interrogation,” Hux said, dodging the question. “She’s spoken on the issue so often that it’s a matter of galactic record.”

“I'm not the General.” He tightened his grip in a threat, and Hux inhaled sharply, lifting his eyes obediently in spite of his bite. “I'm the dog, remember?”

Hux swallowed, jaw working hard, and his mind scattered in a panic. Kylo had been hovering at the surface, mapping his mood, and so far there'd been little else to read. In the beginning of their co-commandership, Kylo had been careless in his sweeps of the other’s mind, and it’d made Hux cautious. He wasn’t particularly Sensitive, didn’t hold stock with such things; he did, however, value privacy, and so had taken to guarding his thoughts. Who he’d learned it from, Kylo couldn’t guess, but he’d gotten good enough at it that afterwards his mind could rarely be entered without the invasion being noticed.

But just now he was distracted, live with the terror of being mentally speared, and it shattered his concentration. The glassy surface split, spilling a mass of thoughts so tangled Kylo hardly knew what to chase. Amongst the familiar, however-- his own back bent over a prisoner arched in perfect pain; the acrid smell of smoke; ringing footsteps in a dark hall, marching determinedly _somewhere_ \-- he caught a few glitching images of a face he didn’t recognize: a woman, dark-skinned and tall and stony. Highly ranked. New.

“Who’s Nadeen?” he asked, fishing out the name.

Hux’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“That Officer,” Kylo clarified, revisiting the image. It was still hovering at the surface, teased out now by his use of the name. Hux couldn’t help but picture her; a source of comfort, perhaps, though Kylo couldn’t see how. She seemed severe. “The woman wearing your old marks. Is she your replacement?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Liar.”

Armitage sneered, finally tugging free of Kylo’s grip. Ren let him go, but didn’t back away. If anything, he shifted closer, crowding the man against the wall. Proximity unnerved him more than touch, the threat of something more daunting than reality. Unsure of when Kylo’s next touch might come, he flattened against the wall and breathed uneasily, weighing the merits of ceding ground.

“Yes,” he allowed finally. “She’s the General.”

“And your second?” Hux didn’t answer, but Kylo felt his energy spike. “She’s that too, isn’t she?”

“Does it matter?”

Ren ignored the question. “Did you tell her where you were going?”

“No.”

It was a quick answer, easy and true. Hux wouldn’t have told anyone, even his right hand. She wasn’t owed the information. Besides, if she really wanted to know--

“But she could find out through your ship’s tracker log.” Hux brightened at that, but Kylo pressed on. “Don’t be stupid. The Knights tore it out before we left. Even if she thinks to check, your trail ends on Voss.”

Armitage’s sneer returned, uglier for the momentary relief. “She’ll know something’s wrong,” he spat. “She’ll look for me.”

“Your confidence in your subordinates is endearing,” Kylo drawled. “But you and I both know your popularity is spotty, at best. Your climb made you enemies, Hux, and from what I hear, the list has only gotten longer.”

Armitage bit his cheek. “Not everyone is as treacherous as you.”

He dredged up a few more faces, a smattering of uniformed men and women who’d rocketed through the ranks as a reward for their loyalty. Nadeen’s supporting staff, Kylo supposed, charged with overseeing operations until Hux’s return. Dameron had been right. Hux had left his flagship under sympathetic command. That, if nothing else, would prove useful.

“For your sake, I hope not.” Kylo shrugged. “But we’ll know for sure soon enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we make contact.” He rocked back, resting his weight on his toes. “Informative as you could be, you’re ultimately powerless. You have no control over the flagship or the fleet now, or anything else relating to the Order. Your General, however-- If she’s as fond of you as you think, she might be persuaded to make concessions.”

Hux’s brow furrowed. “Bait,” he muttered, more to himself than anything. He chewed the word a while, the shook his head sharply. “You don’t know how to reach her. The only code you still have is for my private line, and I _won’t_ give you anything else.”

“You would,” Kylo assured, and in the blue bleach of Rey’s light he saw Hux’s color drain. “Fortunately, you don’t need to. Isn’t your ship is programmed to link with the bridge?” Armitage cussed, which was answer enough. “One of our techs can strip the codes, and save me the trouble.”

He lifted a hand again, considering taking Hux’s face once more for good measure. The man flinched from it so violently, however, that Kylo regretted the impulse. It was an unnecessary cruelty, keeping him on edge now that he’d gotten what Poe wanted. Pulling back, he braced and pushed to his feet instead. Hux watched him rise, dumbfounded as he brushed the filth from his knees.

“Is that it?” he breathed, voice tight. “You haven’t even… aren’t you going to--”

“Why should I?” Kylo asked, affecting apathy. Truthfully, he was grateful that Hux had been so forthcoming. He wasn’t as convinced as Poe that he would be. “You gave me what I needed.”

Hux looked momentarily relieved, huffed a few grateful lungfuls of air, then froze, eyes narrowing. 

“You weren’t going to at all,” he guessed.

“No,” Ren said truthfully. There was no point in lying. “As you said, General Organa dislikes it.”

Armitage bristled, his frown souring. His cheeks flooded again, coloring with anger and embarrassment, and he looked for a moment as if he would spit.

“I hate you,” he growled instead, so contemptuous that Kylo could feel the cutting edge.

“I know.” He turned from the man before he could say anything else, making his way to the gate. Rey stepped aside to let him pass, but he halted, glancing aside at the stack of bowls. “You shouldn’t waste this,” he chided. “It isn’t poisoned.”

The man snarled, shifting as though preparing to spring. He’d like to, Kylo knew, might’ve even dared if Rey’s saber weren’t drawn. But the woman adjusted her hold it, raising the pulsing blade higher in warning, and Hux settled for shouting a few vicious words instead. Ignoring them, Ren exited the cell, engaging the lock once Rey tugged it shut. After ensuring it wouldn’t budge, Kylo motioned for her to power down the blade. When she did, the cellblock sank back into velvety darkness, broken only by pricks of yellow light. 

Hux gasped at the change, made a scramble for the patch of light near the bars, but by then Rey and Kylo’s backs were turned. They abandoned his cell, making a slow, dreary march for the main door. The light through the small window in it grew as they approached, guiding their way more surely than the sporadic pepper of bulbs. They’d nearly reached it before Rey dared to speak.

“Ben?” she tried, whisper bouncing off the bare walls. “Are you alright?”

He hummed, taking her by the hand again. She matched his grip eagerly, and that, more than anything-- more than retreating from Hux’s miserable cell or the growing glow of light-- evened out his pulse.

“I will be,” he assured. “Once we’re out of here, in any case. Thank you for coming.”

“I would’ve even if Leia hadn’t asked. You shouldn’t have to do something like this alone.” She adjusted her hold, slotting her fingers between his. “Shouldn’t have to do anything alone.”

It was kind to say, and he appreciated the sentiment, but still: “I often work alone. Occupational hazard.”

“Not anymore,” she said, so resolutely that he wondered how long she’d chewed it. “I won’t make you.”

Warmth flooded his chest at that, banishing the prison’s chill. 

He squeezed her hand, letting their fingers lock, and allowed himself to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the worst week of Hux's life? Probably.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is it they say, about best laid plans?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it to the penultimate, folks! Thank you again so much for making it this far. I had a great time writing this one; partially for the second instance of smut I got to squeeze in, and partially for the chance to get Leia back in action. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together.
> 
> As always, your thoughts and comments are appreciated!

“Remember,” Leia said, leaning against the communicator to face the group gathered there. “We only have as much control in this as we can talk them into surrendering. So please--” Her attention settled on Dameron. Lips quirking in something only adjacent to humor, she spoke the last directly to him. “--don’t get cocky.” 

Kylo glanced aside in time to catch Poe rolling his eyes. “Give me some credit, General.”

“When this is over, maybe. Now--” She returned her attention to the group at large. “Are we ready?”

They were on Voss again, having flown out the day before. Leia left earliest, piloted by Commander Erie in her private vessel. When the rest arrived-- the Knights and Hux in one ship; Kylo, Finn, Rey, and Poe in the other-- they found the two women wandering camp, muttering and making notes in their datapads.

_My back-up_ , the General explained, tilting the screen to accommodate Ren when he peeked over her shoulder. _In case this goes terribly._

He’d grimaced, but didn’t argue. Leia’s doubt was par for the course. It was in her nature to peer around corners, to lay lines by the dozen so that no matter how disastrous a mission, there was at least one thread to drag out by. The habit had saved the Resistance many times over, and he didn’t fault her for falling back on it now. Given how isolated they were, it was only fair.

It would be wasteful, she explained as he read, for everyone to be present for contact. Herself, Commander Dameron, and Kylo would do; in addition, of course, to Hux and the two Knights they’d need to monitor him. The rest of the team would spend the time sweeping base. There was only so much they could take-- three ships and six sets of hands weren’t nearly enough-- but the General wouldn’t risk losing everything. The food, medical supplies, and munitions there had been dearly bought; abandoning it all would be an insult to the memory of those who’d died securing it.

Choosing Hux’s guard was no matter. Of the women, Lotti was undeniably the strongest, capable of incapacitating the man with a single blow if necessary. Anat was a clear choice as well, though more for the figure she cut than anything.

She was deathly pale, blue veins tinting her skin from beneath, and too skinny by half. When she and Kylo were children, it had made her look ill; maybe she had been. He’d never asked. Now, however, it lent her a fearsome look, because whatever it was-- disease or clash of genetics-- hadn’t affected her growth. She was as tall as Kylo now: a towering, glum wraith, like something from a story told to keep children in bed. A crass comparison, but inescapable, and something Anat wasn’t above using. Having her at Hux’s side would inspire fear, at least, and hopefully keep him still.

Once their teams were selected, General Organa and Erie split, taking their charges aside to discuss plans. They’d start early to give those gathering the advantage of daylight, and to ensure that it wasn’t dark when-- _if_ , Kylo corrected-- they needed to flee. It would be easier to clear the trees with light still in the clouds. If they needed to. If.

The word ran like a prayer through Ren’s head, slowing the encroach of nerves. The weight of the plan had finally settled, compounding in his shoulders as he busied himself around camp. He noted everything as he went, cataloging details in the low evening light. The smell of sweetgrass, ivy creeping to the windows of the compound and huts, the thick, eerie silence seeping from between the trees. The forest should’ve been alive with the noise of birds and beasts, but it weren’t. It was unnaturally still, had likely been long before camp was ever established. Instead of finding it unsettling, however, the stillness was something Kylo took comfort in. Voss, particularly the edges of the Nightmare Lands, was a familiar oddity, as much a home as anything had ever been. If they’d miscalculated and the Order’s hateful, mechanical eye turned here--

Kylo shuddered and buried the thought. It wasn’t helping.

To stifle it, he did his best to keep distracted through the night, an endeavor in which Rey was happy to assist. Once their meetings concluded, she dragged him from the General’s group, muttering about speaking privately. Leia’s brow cocked, eyes shading with an understanding that made Ren’s gut roll, but didn’t impede. Bidding them goodnight, she returned her attention to the group, obligingly ignoring the direction in which her son was being led.

\---

_It would kill you to be more discreet_ , he’d hissed, neck hot as she led him into their hut.

Rey ignored the dig, pressing up to nip at his jaw instead when the door clicked shut, and Kylo felt the fight go out of him like a light.

He let her led him deeper inside, pliant and half unravelled already. The week had stretched his will thin, and it felt good to cede, to lay across the knees of someone he trusted not to crush him to dust. And she wouldn’t, didn’t even play at doing as much. She took care, enjoying the ease with which he bent, how quickly he obeyed when nudged him to walk back towards the cot. He teetered when his knees met it, reaching for her shoulder to stabilize; she broke their kiss to dodge it and gave his chest a shove, letting his weight take him down.

She mounted him quickly, caging him between her thighs before he could think to move. Not that he would have; no more than necessary to settle. But she wanted to regulate even that, it seemed, and lifted her hips only slightly for him to adjust. Careful not to buck her-- it would break the mood, he knew, because this was fresh to her still, and she unsure of herself in it-- he slid more comfortably on the bed, angling for another kiss. 

_Let me_ , she cooed, guiding him down with a hand to his throat.

He groaned, both at the words and the threat of the press. With a little more force his throat would close, the sting of her weight tunnel his vision. But it didn’t come. She pulled back, muttering for him to stay put, and helplessly, childishly, he obeyed.

She undressed him slowly, savoring the exposure. He twisted now and then to accommodate her, but otherwise kept still, unwilling to break her command. She enjoyed that, he knew, could feel her arousal swelling from the submission. The heat of it bled through her clothes, which she still hadn’t removed. Would she ever? He couldn’t guess, or find it in himself to care. Her focus was singular and sharp, and milked him of concern. 

Besides, something about the imbalance made him throb. He felt as though he were being vivisected, peeled back for her inspection. Absorbed in her as he'd been their first tryst, she'd had little time for this herself. She seemed determined to make up for the loss, and mouthed eagerly at each swath of skin like fruit. He arched into her touch, meeting her when she found a particularly sensitive spot. Once, when her wet mouth latched on a nipple, he even dared to sink his fingers into her hair. She didn't pull back, remind him that he was meant to be still; she did, however, sink her teeth vindictively into the bud.

He yowled and pulled free, laying his palms on the cot in supplication. She released the nub immediately and laved it in apology before moving on. She mouthed her way down, stopping now and then nip and suckle experimentally. Erratic spots. Some that the brush of her hair against made him hiss, and some that were soft spots of her own. Rey lingered especially on the cut of his hips, thumbing rough circles and nipping the bone, mirroring the attention he’d spent on hers. Kylo’s breath shuddered, as much a ticklish laugh as a whine, the sensation muddied by the rub of her chest against his cock. It was miserably hard by then, an aching wound between his legs, and when she finally pulled back to wrap it in her cool fingers he jolted. Bucking reflexively, he knocked her balance, and she had to stabilize with a hand on his ribs. 

_Sorry_ , he stuttered, tripping as her grip around his cock tightened. Not unbearably, perhaps not even in warning, but she’d bitten so viciously at his chest before that it spiked his pulse. She wouldn’t, maybe; then again, she might. _Didn’t mean to._

Rey shushed him, working slow strokes over the flesh. He bit back a groan when her thumb swiped the head, gathering a weep of precum to ease her way. He wouldn’t last long, not like this. Her mouth was sweet and attentive, exacting now as she replaced her thumb with it to tongue the swollen head. If she weren’t careful, he’d spill down her chin, and wouldn’t that be mortifying? A speedy release the first time might’ve been excusable; twice, however, was the threat of a habit.

_I want to try this_ , she said, breath blowing cool against the spit she’d left. _Later, when we have something._

Kylo didn’t immediately know what she meant. Then he felt it: her free hand skating up his thigh, working back to spread him and bump clumsily against his entrance. He hissed, arching to grant her access, and she rewarded him with a firm stroke over the rim. The pucker shuddered, drawing against her thumb, and her eyes shaded.

_You said you like it._

He had said that, and he meant it, but he hadn’t expected her to remember. It’d been a throwaway admission, something to settle her nerves when his own fingers angled to breach.

_I think I would too_ , she continued, stroking over his entrance in time with the beat of her fist. _I want to feel you clench around me, and shake from inside._

He didn’t know if she meant it-- though he was prepared to beg when they had something better than spit-- or was just whispering filth. Regardless, it was effective. Embarrassingly so. It took only more strokes for Kylo to go rigid, his vision glitching at the edges as he came in heavy spurts. She stroked him through it, milking him to the edge of misery. Only when he throbbed dry in her hand did she release, raising her fist to lick it clean. 

He panted, too exhausted to flush at the obscene sight. He should flip her, he knew, return the favor, but she'd milked him dry of more than release. The weight of the week had been replaced by genuine, bone deep weariness, and above him she was already fading at the edges.

_Sleep_ , she cooed, as though catching the thought, and collapsed against his side before he could protest. _You can pay me back later._

\----

All of which was infinitely more gratifying than the position Kylo was in now: General Organa at his front, glancing between him and Poe, and Hux, gagged between the Knights, glaring at his back. They were alone in the control room, but the shuffle of the other team could be heard through the door. They hadn't left the compound to sweep the huts and cellar yet, and their heavy tread was an anchor for Kylo’s nerves. 

Focusing on the pitter, he returned his attention to Leia. “As ready as I can be. Commander?” He glanced aside at the other man, who nodded his agreement. “If you will then, General.”

She hesitated only a moment longer then, tapping her cane on the concrete, turned back to the console to enter the code. One of their techs-- a Bith they’d picked up months ago, who’d been nothing short of an asset since-- teased it out in minutes, assuring them that a broadcast of it wouldn’t even require an accompanying missive. It was a unique sequence, crafted specifically for Hux’s ship. When it blipped onto the bridge’s radar, there’d be no doubt in their mind who was making the call. 

Assurance aside, when the communicator screen blinked rapidly seconds later, signalling that their transmission had been received, Kylo’s gut dropped. There was no guarantee Hux’s team wouldn’t be suspicious, especially since it’d been a week since Armitage had sent word. To Ren’s knowledge, he’d never spent so much as a day away without touching base. To do so now, when so much of the daily operations depended on his word--

The screen flared, flashing mechanically around a scrolling message: **Incoming visual transmission. Tap to receive.** Beside him, Dameron exhaled sharply in relief.

“Got their attention, at least.”

“We did.” Leia motioning for the two to step up. They obeyed, flanking the General and effectively blocking any incoming view of Hux. It wouldn’t do to give the game away too quickly. “Now let’s see what else we can get.”

Behind them, Hux struggled against his guard. Ignoring it, Leia tapped scrolling message, straightening her back as the transmission blew onto screen: a square, grainy shot of the bridge, sparsely populated. A few petty officers lounging at their screens, and a tall, severe looking woman in profile. Nadeen, Kylo guessed. It looked like what he’d cobbled from Hux’s memories, in any case.

“What the hell, Hux?” she hissed, not bothering yet to turn. Her eyes were scrunched at the corners, full mouth drawn tightly in fury. “It’s been a week; where have you--”

She spun then, so sharply that her boots must have squeaked on the floor of the bridge. When she wasn’t faced with Hux, however, she balked. Her shoulders slumped and expression slacked, bouncing between the line of bodies in front of the screen and what she could see of their background. Admittedly, that wasn’t much. Leia had brought them all close enough to block Hux and the Knights from view, and the proximity served to hide most of the room as well. The few details the woman could snag, however, were enough. She wasn’t looking in on the hull of a ship; that much was obvious, even if it weren’t for the queue of enemy operatives.

“General Organa,” she said, honing in on the woman finally. 

“Yes, and you--” Leia shifted, leaning on her cane. “Must be Nadeen. General, I mean. Congratulations on the promotion.”

Nadeen’s mouth worked silently a moment, thrown by Leia’s use of her name. “What is this?”

“Not what you were expecting, clearly.”

Nadeen’s eyes cut left, zeroing in on Kylo as he spoke. She studied him, nose scrunched, either uncertain of or unwilling to accept what she was seeing. After bouncing between his features a while-- the line of his scar, broad chest, aquiline nose-- she huffed, shaking her head.

“That’s not possible.” Her hands, which she’d dropped from parade rest to speak, were tucking in on themselves. Kylo could see her knuckles working as her fingers scraped the palms. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Do I look dead?”

“Hux swore it.” She paused, wetting her lower lip. “He had your will, the transcript of your final missive--”

Kylo chuckled, cutting her off, because of course Hux had forged a transcript. As always, the man had been miserably thorough.

“He lied. If you knew him better, that wouldn’t be a surprise.” The woman sneered, made to protest, but Ren pressed on. “Did he tell you where he was going, or why?”

She hesitated, annoyed with her own answer before it came. “The Marshal’s movements are often classified.”

“No, then. Would you like me to tell you?” 

He leaned forward to brace on the panel, bringing the bridge into focus. Nadeen’s voice must have carried through it, because a small crowd of officers was forming over her shoulders. They peered around her into the screen, eyes blowing in recognition before they turned to whisper to one another. If the General noticed, she was too absorbed in Ren now to care.

“He came to me,” he continued. “In answer to a private call.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Why would he do that?”

“He was under the impression I needing rescuing.” Kylo shrugged. “Unfortunately for him, I’m also capable of lying.”

He looked to Leia for permission to bring the man forward. She granted it, and after waiting for her to step aside he motioned for the Knights to haul him forward. The man dragged his feet the entire way, even kicking at Anat’s legs, but to no effect. Beyond tightening her grip on his neck, the woman didn’t seem to register it. When they reached the panel, she used her grip to press his face to the screen. Anat held him there, angling him now and then to be sure there was no mistake, then pulled him back to stand. She and Lotti took him by the arms again and stepped back, clearing space for Leia once more. 

Nadeen’s voice came tight through her teeth seconds later. “What did you do to him?”

She wasn’t looking at Kylo or the General. Her attention was fixed between their shoulders, where Hux had been kept in sight. Lotti was stony faced, a pillar to which the struggling man was bound. Anat, however, was enjoying the attention. Following Nadeen’s gaze, Ren was able to catch the Knight staring back, her thin lips split in a rare, monstrous grin. Her spidery fingers crept up Hux’s neck, teasing the hair at his nape. Hux didn’t twist away, but he did shudder and groan behind his gag. Nadeen snarled at the man’s reaction, and leaned into the screen.

“Does your dog know who it's molesting?”

That word again: _dog_. What they’d all been to the Order, what the women would still be if Kylo hadn’t found them again on Voss.

“She knows,” he drawled. “Relax. He hasn’t been so much as nipped.”

“Not yet,” Dameron teased, and though he couldn’t have been more than half visible on screen, Nadeen turned on him.

“Is that a threat? You dare--”

“Control yourself,” Leia interrupted. “Or are you not interested in what we have to say?”

Nadeen bit her lip, schooling its furious tremble. “Tell that bitch to stand down,” she insisted.

Leia's brow arched. “That bitch is more than capable of snapping your CO’s neck in two. I suggest you keep that in mind, and consider the precariousness of your situation before speaking again.”

Nadeen paled, throwing a fist up to silence the rumbling officers behind her. They skittered to silence, peering as their General did just over Kylo's shoulder. He didn't look again; didn't have to. He could imagine the smug curl of Anat's grin, and how triumphantly she must have been stroking her trembling ward.

“You have my attention.” Nadeen straightened her back, recalling composure. “Why waste time with posturing?”

“I wouldn't dream of wasting your time, General. But never mind.” 

Leia rested her weight more fully on the cane, and Kylo shifted closer to support it with his leg. It wouldn't do for her to look hobbled now. Nadeen was young, hungry, and blood in the water would tweak her nose.

“As I'm sure you're beginning to guess, your leadership model is flawed.”

“Is that your professional opinion?”

“More a statement of fact. You’ve lost two figureheads in as many years, both to the Resistance. Slotting in favored officers based on arbitrary rules of succession has so far gotten you nowhere, and according to our sources--” Leia gestured over her shoulder to the Knights. “--your men are getting rebellious.”

Nadeen shrugged. “Small incidents, and easily squashed. Nothing unmanageable.”

“Not yet, maybe, but you can't seriously think you've seen the worst. Especially since _this_ isn't on the record.”

The woman's mouth hardened. “Which,” she drawled, “I don't suppose you plan on letting it stay much longer.”

General Organa shook her head. “I'm curious: what's your plan?”

“For what?”

“For when this--” She jabbed a finger at the scene behind the other woman. “--collapses, and don't be obtuse. You know it will.”

“Why? Have something in the works?” Nadeen’s eyes narrowed. “You can't possibly think you're powerful enough to destabilize the Order.”

“I don't have to beat you,” Leia said casually. “I have to outlive you, which is much easier. Regimes fall every day. I've seen several, and you...” She looked the woman over, then shrugged. “Too young, maybe, but I bet your parents were ex-Imperials. Disgraced, exiled, scratching out a life in the Outer Rim; am I close?”

Nadeen's jaw clenched, the muscle drawing tight, which was answer enough for Ren. General Organa seemed to agree, and carried on.

“It always starts like this: a crumbling hierarchy, revolving door throne. Once the veneer starts to crack, leadership becomes a game, and the ones up top are the first to lose. They’re taken out by grunts or peers desperate for power. When they smell blood, every riot you think you’ve crushed will well back up, incited by the breaking of your well-oiled machine. They’ll think they can rework it, carve out an untouchable seat at the top, but they can’t. No one can.”

Leia paused, allowing the woman time to speak. Nadeen didn’t take it. She stood like a pillar, hands clenching rhythmically at her sides. The disciplined measure of it belied her anxious, tracking eyes. Kylo wondered what she was thinking, or if she even was at all. General Organa’s words were unsettling, and perhaps it was best for Nadeen if her mind didn’t wander. Who knew what bloody scene Leia had conjured at the edge of her mind.

“You’re at a ledge now, General,” Leia continued when it was clear the woman wouldn’t speak. “And straight ahead is the deadfall of chaos. When your men see Hux die--”

“Die?” Nadeen’s voice came finally, thin and tremulous. She looked between the General and Armitage, who was wrestling against his captors more viciously than ever. 

“His execution will be public. Anything less would be a waste.”

Kylo stiffened at that. Was she bluffing? There hadn’t even been a trial. 

The word flared hot in Nadeen’s ears as well, and she balked again, taking a half-step back from the screen.

“You wouldn’t,” she said, sounding wholly unconvinced. “Not without due process. Galactic law is clear on--”

Leia cut the woman off with a harsh, ugly laugh. Hux stilled behind them, grated by the peels, and through the grainy feed Kylo saw Nadeen wane. 

“How many laws has the Order upheld?”

Bluffing, Ren thought again; she must be. General Organa valued Galactic law, wouldn’t have fought Tindale so bitterly if she didn’t. It was a ruse. Had to be. The thought slowed the churn of panic in his gut, and he relaxed somewhat beside her. It brought his hand near to hers, where it rested on the head of her cane. Sensing the heat, she adjusted her hold, letting her knuckles brush his. A soothing touch, and an assurance. He pressed back gratefully, feeling the last of his tension snap. She was less her father in this than other things; what Hux’s General didn’t know, however, would serve them.

“When they see him die,” she continued, speaking over the flustered half-sentences Nadeen churned out. “Every officer vying for power will set their sights on you, and whoever wins will have your head on a spike. But it won’t stop there. They’ll come for your replacement then, and the next, on and on until your fleet is a dozen warring factions making space junk of itself. The Order will snap itself in two; all I have to do is be patient.”

Nadeen swallowed, the tremble in her lip more visible now. Her attention was fixed on the General, no longer drifting back to where Hux twisted like a snake. Kylo could almost see her mapping it out: the bloody end of her short stint as General, the collapsing of the Order like a star. Whether by grace of her political upbringing or some dark gift of the force, Leia was a terror-smith. She’d never had difficulty sowing panic in her enemies, and Nadeen was no exception. The woman’s face shined with sweat, and when she spoke again, her voice was full of spit.

“What do you want, exactly?”

What came next, Kylo would later blame on several things: a lapse in the Knights’ guard, his own distraction, the fact that there were too few in the room to act as buffer. Leia’s hesitation, however, was chief among them. Her concentration broke at the words, surprised that Nadeen was considering ceding ground at at all. Her silence stretched for seconds, and in it Hux took strength. Spending the last of his luck, the man managed to wrestle free of the Knights. Focused as he was on the screen, Kylo was unprepared for the blow the man dealt: weaker than it would’ve been if he’d been properly nourished, but enough to knock Ren aside. He stumbled, and the other man darted to the screen. Ripping the gag from his mouth, he pressed his face nearly flush with it to snarl at his General.

“Coward!” he spat. “Give them nothing, do you--”

But Kylo regained his footing then, and fisting the man’s hair surged him forward. Hux's head hit the console with a sickly thwap and he groaned. He didn't lose consciousness, but he did go limp, and once pliant Ren tossed him back to the Knights. The woman caught him and held on his feet, letting his head loll as it willed.

Nadeen stared, doe eyed and frozen through the screen. She fixated on the corner, on a dark smear of Hux's blood that now obscured the view. Her mouth twisted at the sight and she tore her eyes away, glaring down at her own panel. Neither Kylo or General Organa spoke, and Poe, who'd been fidgeting beside her, went still. The three watched the woman warily, unwilling to break the spell more than Hux's outburst already had. Some of her fear had fled, booted out by the man's spur, and a cold, ticking anger was slotting in its place.

“General,” a man behind her whispered, then when she didn't respond: “Nadeen, they'll kill him.”

“He knows that,” Nadeen gritted out. 

She glared at her panel a while longer, her hunched shoulders drawing tight as she made her choice. Seconds later, her fist came down on the console, hard enough to rattle the feed. The men behind her jolted, something Kylo only narrowly managed to avoid. When she looked up, however, teeth bared like a dog, he couldn't help but shrink.

“The Resistance is an anarchist cell,” she intoned, “led by criminals and traitors.” She looked directly at Kylo then, lips curling as though she could taste the bitter word. “The Order won’t be bullied by it; I will _not_ negotiate.” She looked back to her panel, tapping furiously at the keys a moment before speaking again. “Voss, isn’t it? Clever hideout. Or, it was.” 

Looking up again to snag Leia's gaze, she barked an officer’s name, calling for him to scramble the fourth quadrant ships. General Organa's face remained impassive as the man obeyed, ducking behind his own console to make the call, but Ren felt her fist clench.

“Unfortunately for you,” Nadeen continued, tone malicious through it's tremble now, “my fleet isn't junk yet. On the contrary, it's quite efficient, and it's patrol wide. I had other plans for Outer Rim Squad today, but since you’ve interrupted--” She paused, peaked up to check a readout near the top of her screen. “-- this will have to do.”

“You're going to regret this.”

“I doubt that.” The other woman straightened, tugging the creases from her coat. “Ready your men, General, and have them to make their peace. We won’t be taking prisoners today.”

Nadeen made to cut the feed, but hesitated a moment longer. Her gloved hand poised over the panel, she peered between Kylo and Leia’s shoulder once more. Her eyes lighted on Hux, though if the other man was aware of it he didn’t let on. His head was lolling still, a slow slug of blood rolling from his hairline; the only sign he was conscious at all was the groan he loosed when Lotti adjusted her hold.

Cussing, Nadeen tore her eyes away. Her hand came down hard on the panel, and the feed shut off with a crisp, static blast. When it faded, the room was silent, bereft even of the footsteps of their supporting team. It was oppressive, but Leia didn’t break it, and Kylo didn’t dare to either.

Instead, he kept his gaze on the darkening screen, watching the dour faces of his team come to focus in the spreading black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate description: In which Leia, again, was right.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are folks! I can't believe we're at the last chapter. It's been a wild ride, and I've had an amazing time writing it and hearing from you. It's bittersweet to close it up, but I'm excited to hear what you think of the ending. I'm personally quite happy with it, but am eager to see what you think.
> 
> Thanks so much for taking this ride with me, and I hope to hear from you all on future stories as well <3

Even in ideal situations, General Organa was not one to waste time. She didn’t agonize over decisions, or if she did, it was days before; late in some previous night where she’d sat up, red eyed, laying plans for her myriad of exits. Insofar as Kylo could tell, Leia was never caught unawares. It was the trait of hers he admired most as a child, still was. Now more than ever, he was grateful for her ceaseless planning, though admittedly being caught in the storm made him dizzy. 

Once she recovered from Nadeen’s refusal, Leia kicked into gear. She typed a new code into the control panel, tapping into the compound’s intercom system. It screeched to life, crackling from interference deep in the wires. She batted the microphone hooked to it, testing the feed, and after hearing it echo in the hall leaned down to call through.

“Sweep team,” she barked, words blowing out at the corners. “Report to the control room immediately. Commander Erie, stop my ship first. We’ll need the bag, after all.”

Kylo wanted to ask what _the bag_ contained, but Leia didn’t give him time. After releasing the line, she turned her attention to the room, eyes calculating.

“What do you think, Poe: is there enough sedative left to keep him under ‘til Belsavis?”

She jerked her head at Hux, still caught between the Knights. He lolled, but clung to consciousness, which impressed Kylo despite his anger. Armitage was nothing if not persistent, and he supposed he shouldn’t have expected him to go down easily.

“Should be,” Poe said. “We had half a vial left, last I checked.”

Leia nodded. “Get it. I don’t want to risk him getting a second wind.”

Dameron took off without question, jogging from the room toward the medwing. If the revelation that Hux was accompanying them surprised him, it didn’t show. Kylo, however, felt his brow crease.

“We’re taking him back?”

“What else? Our bluff would be totally called if we left him behind. Besides, he’s seen Belsavis. We can’t risk further exposure.”

That was true. Leaving him for extraction would be disastrous now that he knew the planet’s name. He’d bring the fire of the Order down on their last stronghold, and who knew if they’d be lucky enough to escape. Still, abandoning him and keeping him prisoner weren’t the only options. 

Leia had been bluffing before when she’d mentioned execution; now, however, that he’d shot their plans through...

As though she’d sensed the thought-- and maybe she had; she had few qualms about invading his privacy-- Leia frowned.

“Don’t let frustration impair your judgement,” she chided. “We aren’t terrorists.”

Heat bloomed up Kylo’s neck at the reprimand, which the Knights thankfully ignored. The women seemed content to overlook the entire exchange, and were instead whispering over Hux’s head. About what, Ren couldn’t guess, but it couldn’t have been pleasant. The man groaned now and then at a word, weakly renewing his struggle. It made for a macabre sight, but one which Ren was grateful for. The General hadn’t spoken so with him in months, and though it wasn’t the harshest word he’d ever received, he still shrunk.

“Of course not,” he muttered, bowing his head to appease her. Like a dog, he thought, expecting the whip. “I apologize, General.”

She sighed and adjusting her hold on the cane. He flinched as it lifted, more out of habit than fear. She wouldn’t, he knew, but muscle memory ran deep, and the jolt came before he could school himself. To her credit, Leia didn’t pull back or even acknowledge the slip. She slowed her course, but kept it, raising the handle to tap the beneath his chin. It didn’t help him feel any less like a child, but he didn’t resist. He let her guide him up, obediently meeting her eyes. 

“I know you’re angry,” she said, more softly. “But he isn’t worth the compromise. Besides, this isn’t over.” Content that he wouldn’t look away, she lowered her cane. “When it is, they’ll be the ones running, and Hux--” She peeked over Kylo’s shoulder, mouth twisting at the sight of the man. “--will have to answer for his crimes. Properly. That can’t happen if he dies here.”

He wondered how she expected someone like Hux to ever atone, or how, even now, she could see an end to their march. The few minutes they’d had Nadeen on a string were the most hopeful Kylo had felt since defecting, and though he’d known-- as Leia had-- that this was a crack shot, he couldn’t keep his expectations from swelling. If they’d been able to keep Hux quiet, or snagged him a moment sooner… But they hadn’t. The man had hardened his General’s heart, and now time stretched out before Kylo like a string. 

They could do this forever; Dameron had said so himself. So long as Belsavis wasn’t discovered they could disappear, regroup off the map, drag themselves back into the light weeks or months later; however long it took for Nadeen’s search to run dry. They could find new bases, new fighters, new ships. They could comb cantinas and villages for intel, striking this or that base to incite terror. They could make themselves an indefinite thorn in the Order’s side. It would be stasis: swimming viciously upstream, never to any real effect.

Kylo swallowed, his tongue thick and sour. He didn’t want to live like that, didn’t want his friends or aging mother to. But the prospect was looming now, near and terrible, and the thought of it-- spending their lives scuttling between hideouts-- made him sick.

Thankfully Poe returned then, the others on his heels. They flooded the control room, halting their dead run to fix the General with flushed, expectant faces. 

“What happened?” Rey panted. “What did the General say?”

Dameron scoffed, elbowing his way through to Hux. “To kriff ourselves, basically. Though I’ve got to admit, it was going well until Ginger got chatty.” 

He motioned for Hux to be spread, and the Knights complied. Lotti bore his weight, holding him steady as Anat dragged his head back by the hair. He groaned, helpless as his throat was bared. Dameron felt along it, teasing out the vein. When he found it, he held one finger in place and dug a syringe from his pocket. Uncapping it with his teeth, he guided the point in. After verifying it was in the vein he delivered the dose, injecting it with a slow, steady press.

When the syringe was empty he drew back, careful not to cut the vein. Hux whimpered when the man finally retreated, and fell back heavily into his guard. The women tightened their grip, forcing him to stand, but it was apparent he was already becoming deadweight.

“So, what?” Rey’s eyes bounced between Leia, Kylo, and Poe, not settling on any of them long. “It didn’t work?”

“No,” Leia sighed. “And if we don’t get moving, we’ll have company.”

As if summoned by the threat, Erie scrambled through the door, back bent under a thick canvas bag. 

“General,” she greeted, slipping the bag from her shoulder. When it hit the ground, its contents tumbled over one another like stones. “Thank Stars for backups.”

Leia huffed a laugh. “Did you finish the sweep?”

“Yes.” Erie knelt, fussing with the bag’s zipper. “It wouldn’t all fit, but we favored the food and medical supplies. Given how long it might be until our next run--” She shrugged, finally working the duffle open. “Didn’t want to risk running out.”

When the woman sat back on her heels, revealing the contents, Kylo felt his gut lurch. Charges: dozens of them, unprimed but unmistakable. Sturdy black squares, each with a single, slow blinking eye. 

“What is this?”

“Our back-up,” Leia said. “Now, I want as few of us on-world as possible when the Order arrives, so in a few minutes two ships will be leaving. Finn, Rey--” She looked to each of them in turn. “You’ll be taking Poe’s ship, and Ben and I will escort the prisoner on mine.” She must have sensed his displeasure, because when Kylo made to protest she threw a hand up for silence. “The rest of you, I’m entrusting with this.”

General Organa jabbed her cane at the bag by Erie’s feet. The eyes of the Knights followed it, settling uneasily on the contents. 

“What are we doing with them?” Malka asked, and Ren could hear her hesitation. 

She knew well enough what the General wanted, had likely guessed the moment the bag was opened. Like the rest of her sisters, however, she looked to be dreading an answer. Kylo didn’t blame her. Charges, after all, were good for one thing.

They needed to be lain, she explained, as quickly and widely as possible. The bulk of the charges could be scattered throughout the compound, as that was likely where they’d look first. What remained could be split between the courtyard, training pads, and huts. After priming them, the Knights could retreat to Hux's ship. One of the dockhands had fit it with a new cloaking device that could be engaged if the ship was idling; once hidden, they could engage it and safely wait to detonate.

“I don't expect you to get them all,” Leia added quickly, misinterpreting the droop of Lotti’s mouth. “All I'm asking is for enough immediate damage to make their General second guess.”

“And for us to blow our home to pieces.”

Lotti's voice was calm, if a little thin. She was accustomed to following orders, and was unlikely to refuse direct instruction. Still, her grip on Hux's arm had gone white. 

_Home_. That was as good a word for Voss as any. Since they’d been gathered from the corners of the galaxy, he and his Knights had been nomads. They’d forsaken their families and first homes for Snoke, and under him had little time for such comforts. Still, throughout all their wanderings-- hopping ships in open space, months-long treks through forests and speeder runs across deserts, taking shelter wherever they could-- Voss had shone like a beacon. Of what, Kylo couldn’t quite say. Not freedom; there was no freedom for them, and wishing for it would've only been a waste. Hope, perhaps, of comfort and familiarity, or catching the dance of firelight through the window of a hut. Hope of peace and companionship at the dark edge of the world, where no one came or went without intent. It was that hope, more than anything, that had kept him and his Knights stitched. When Snoke's demands on their bodies and minds threatened to rend them, there was always Voss-- it's warm, sweet grass and cool forests-- to retreat to. It was their solace, their safety, and now Kish’s grave. For Leia to suggest the women destroy it, without even so much as the support of their Master…

“I understand your hesitation,” Leia said gently. She fussed with her cane a moment before continuing. “And I hope you understand that I don’t ask lightly. But when the squad arrives, they’ll tear camp apart themselves looking for us. It’d look no better then than if you do as I say. The difference being--”

“There’d be a point to it,” Anat interrupted. She was stroking Hux still, seemingly unaware. An old habit, something to keep her occupied while she fretted.

General Organa nodded. “Believe me when I say that I don’t want to hurt you. But we’re in a corner now, and if you want out, I need this done.”

The women looked between the bag and each other. They didn’t speak aloud, but Ren could feel the static hum of their mental communication. He didn’t invade it, hone his hearing or slip into the stream. It would be a violation. Voss was as much as him as theirs, but this decision wasn’t. For whatever reason, Leia had spared him of it, and he wouldn’t intervene unless asked.

“Just the camp?” Lotti asked after a while. “Not the forest?”

“Just the camp,” the General assured. “I doubt Nadeen’s men could be led at blaster-point into the forest.” 

Kylo was inclined to agree. Though its main lifeforce was now dead, stories of the Nightmare Lands’ powers still echoed through the galaxy. Whether the men believed them off-world would be irrelevant. When they landed, felt the siren call of blackness through the trees, they’d believe them here. Even if they saw the Knights running full-tilt into the forest, Ren doubted the men would follow.

“And,” Lotti continued, “when this ends, we could come back; repair it?”

“I can’t guarantee it’ll be soon, but yes. If it doesn’t endanger the Resistance, I’ll even assist. We could spare the manpower, at least, and hopefully the credits once we’ve had time to replenish.”

It read like a negotiation, in which Kylo knew Leia didn’t have to engage. The Knights respected her station, and if she pressed they wouldn’t refuse. Still, she let them barter, preferring to cultivate loyalty instead of demanding it. It was another of her strong suits. General Organa never forced her hand when a request would do, and in this-- as it so often did-- her accomodation paid off. After considering only a moment longer, Lotti relented.

“We accept, General.”

“Thank you. In the interest of time, Commanders Dameron and Erie will stay to help. It’ll make for a cramped flight back, but the speed should be worth it. After you’ve laid the charges, wait in the ship as instructed. Don’t forget to engage the cloak, and fly out as soon as you’ve detonated. Understood?”

Leia looked between the Knights, waiting for each of them to give their consent.

“Good,” she said finally, rapping her cane on the concrete. “Get moving, all of you. If this is going to work, we need to be quick.”

 

 

“You know,” Leia said, swivelling the co-pilot’s chair to face him. “Your uncle and I had a similar disagreement once.”

Kylo’s brow quirked. Did she mean similar to theirs about Hux? If so, he hadn’t heard this story before. 

There was little he hadn’t heard about Leia over the years, either directly or by proxy. She was famous, and tales of her sprinkled the galaxy as liberally as stars. Still, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to learn there were some things she’d kept secret. She was private, after all, and some things were better left to lie.

They’d been in flight for only an hour then, making their way lazily back to Belsavis. Once off-world, the General’s pace had slowed considerably, and she’d forbidden him from jumping to lightspeed until they heard from her Commanders and the Knights. She’d left them with a commlink, instructing them to make contact when they lifted off. The call hadn't come yet, but Kylo wasn't concerned yet. The Outer Rim was vast, and even with Nadeen's squad in it, there was no telling how long it’d take them to reach Voss.

“Did you?” he asked, turning his chair as well. The ship was on auto, and would only need his input when they hit lightspeed. Given that that might be hours away, there was no harm in indulging. “When?”

“Before you were born.” Her eyes fell half mast, as though she were dragging the memory from a well. “Luke and I were travelling together, on a pilgrimage of sorts. He wanted to help me hone my abilities, and I was restless enough to agree. I didn't care about devoting myself to the Force like he did, but the areas I showed promise in were useful, and I didn't see the harm in practice. Especially if it meant not having to settle down.”

Ah, Ren thought. He knew the period she spoke of. A narrow window, no more than two years, but shrouded. She brushed over them in conversation, but they must've been productive, because Leia left them accomplished in the Force. Not in the same manner as her brother, but that hardly mattered. Each person's relationship with the Force was different.

“We received a missive from Trandosha. A standard territory squabble had taken a hard left, and a war queen, Baila, was executing rivals on sight. By the time we arrived, whole clans had been slaughtered.”

Kylo tilted his head. That seemed more of an issue to bring before the Galactic Court that a rogue Jedi.

“What did the locals expect you to do?”

Leia snorted a laugh. “Who knows. Maybe they'd heard of Luke's skill at peace making, or hoped the presence of a Jedi would smooth things over. Regardless, we answered, and just in time. The tribe hosting us was attacked a week later, but with mine and Luke's help the battle was won. We even managed to take Baila, who'd come to fight herself.”

A bold choice, but he supposed if her troops were undefeated, Baila might have gotten cocky. As with all rulers, it had been her undoing.

“After her capture,” the General continued, “the Chief who'd called us released Baila into our custody. He felt comfortable trying her officers, but thought her station warranted a special trial; preferably before the Galactic Court, and Luke agreed.”

“And you?”

“I thought she deserved to be gutted.” Leia shook her head. “You should've seen it, Ben: miles of jungle burned to ash, great mounds of dirt over mass graves. Centuries of history and culture stubbed out like a cigarra, and for what?” She snorted. “But you can imagine what Luke said to that.”

He probably could. Still, it was rare for his mother to be so forthcoming about this period of her life, and he was hungry for details.

“Tell me,” he said, then when she hesitated: “Please.”

The woman's jaw worked, a mirror of his own tick.

“He said that the line I fantasized of crossing-- the one between right and wrong-- was more like a chasm, so well blended that few see it for what it is until it's too late. They try to toe across, slide their foot just over the edge, and when they do?” She whistled, let her hand dip to mime a swan dive. “After that, it doesn't particularly matter what side they manage to claw up on. The damage is done, and they live with the scars of it the rest of their lives.”

“Charming,” he muttered, and Leia's grim expression momentarily smoothed.

“It sounded more mystical when he said it.”

“I'm sure. So, what?” Kylo settled back more comfortably, crossing his legs at the ankles. “You delivered the prisoner? She died in jail, I assume.”

“She died that night, actually. I waited for Luke to fall asleep, then snuck out of bed and cut her throat.”

Kylo stilled, seizing at the confession. That explained why he'd never heard this particular tale. It didn't cast his mother in a savory light, or in any with which he was familiar. It was an anomaly, a blip on her record, and he found that he didn't know what to say.

“I regretted it about ten seconds later,” she pressed. “I screamed for Luke, thinking there'd be something he could do, but it was too late. She was cold before he arrived.”

Kylo imagined it: Leia, knelt and panicking, pale hands slick with Trandoshan blood. Had she cried? She didn't often, but given the circumstances he wouldn’t be surprised. By then she'd killed before: dozens of men and women, but only in battle, when it was her head or theirs. Slashing a throat in the night was undeniably different.

“What did he say?” 

“Nothing,” she said flatly. “He cleaned me off and sent me to bed without a word. When the guards arrived, he told them one of Baila’s enemies must have slipped through, and they didn't care to investigate. They saw the two of us off the next morning, and we never spoke of it again.”

The General’s eyes lost their glass as she shook the memory clear. Drawing a quick breath, she gave Kylo her full attention once more.

“I'm sure he thought of it often, though. I know I have.”

“You shouldn't have been hard on yourself,” Kylo said, unsure of the words even as they came. He didn’t know what would upset or please here in this. “Given her crimes, she'd have likely been sentenced to death anyway.”

“Maybe, but it wasn't my call to make.” She pursed her lips, considering her next words carefully. “It's easier for some, I think, to make these mistakes. Something inside that--”

Her hand was over her heart, picking at the embroidered fabric. Like she was plucking at her heart, flaying it to the pits to route out ancient weakness. When she caught him staring she halted, dropping the hand to his knee instead. She patted it a moment before squeezing, and let the contact linger as she spoke.

“You're young, and have many years left to do better, or worse. And you'll both; everyone does.” She added the last quickly when she saw his brow crease. “What matters is the choice you make in the end: who you stand with, and why. In the meantime...well. It's best to avoid picking up baggage when you can.”

“Will that really be enough?” he asked. “For me, I mean.”

The blood on Leia's hands was cold, and had powered criminals and killers. His own were slick with the lives of civilians, with the families and children of the people he now served. Did they think of their loss each time they saw him?

“I believe so,” Leia said, so sincerely that Kylo could've kissed her. “And I know Han and Luke would too.”

His breath snagged and the careful, measured rhythm of his heart skittered off course. He wanted to beg her to take it back, not to say things she couldn't substantiate or possibly believe. Before he could speak, however, the comm between them sparked to life and Anat’s voice came through.

“General? Ben?” His heart tripped again, because how long had it been since she’d used that name? “Can you hear me?”

Kylo snatched the comm up to respond. “Yes,” he said quickly. “Were you successful?”

Her hesitation made his nail beds ache, but it was only a passing thing. “We were.”

“Any injuries to the team?”

“No. All well and on board.”

His head fell back to knock the headrest, and he recited an old blessing: _blessed are You, sovereign of the Universe, who is good_ , does _good_. Leia’s squeezed his knee again, and she muttered it herself before taking the comm.

“That’s good to hear,” she said, settling back into her own chair. “Have you set your course?”

“Yes, General.”

“Excellent. Make the jump when you can. I’ll tell the dock crew to keep an eye out when we land.”

Anat thanked her, and the other Knights, Poe, and Erie echoed it from behind. Congratulating them one last time, Leia signed off and cut the line, laying the comm on the console once more.

“What did I tell you?” she asked, seriousness bleeding from her voice. “It’s looking better already.”

Some of her humor had returned, and the words edged on a tease. It cooled his nerves, and Kylo felt his mouth turn up in a smile. Not waiting for instruction, he took the ship off auto and engaged the hyperdrive, eager for solid ground. 

 

 

 

A unit was waiting when they touched down, wrapped and armed to the teeth. They flooded aboard when Kylo opened the ship, making for the room where Hux was locked. The man was still out-- Poe’s dosing had done as promised-- but it was no matter. Slight as Armitage was, only one man was needed to carry him. The soldier passed off his rifle and hoisted the man, folding him over his shoulder. Once secured, the team exited the ship and jogged back to the compound, no doubt to have Hux assessed by a med droid before returning him to his cell.

Kylo and Leia took their leave then, crossing the pad as quickly as the wind allowed. The night storm was kicking up, earlier now that the year was getting old, and the wind buffeted hard enough to bruise. Ren stood between Leia and the stream, wrapping an arm around her for balance as they went. By the time they made it to the compound they were both wracked with tremors, and even the chill of the entrance hall was a relief. 

As when they’d first returned with Hux, the council was waiting to receive them. Kylo’s gut knotted at the sight. He didn’t want to speak with any of them just now, and Tindale least of all. He was exhausted, cold, and heartsick. He wanted to comm Rey and ask for company, barricade for the night in one of their rooms. He needed a shower and sleep, and both would be better with her heat on his back throughout.

Fortunately, Leia intervened. She dismissed him before the council could speak, citing the need for a meeting amongst themselves first. The rest of the team could be interviewed the next afternoon. For now, the leadership would take private council.

Grateful for the dismissal, Kylo bent and kissed his mother’s head. A few of the council members balked, unsettled by the display; Leia, however, smiled warmly, and taking advantage of his bend pressed a kiss of her own to his cheek.

“Rest easy,” she called to his back as he turned. “And give Rey my love.”

He winced. Rey’s lack of subtlety, it seemed, was catching. If the council heard the dig, however, they ignored it. Thankful his mother’s tease hadn’t started up a ripple, he picked up the pace and disappeared into the labyrinth of halls. After clearing a few corners he fished out his comm, buzzing for Rey’s attention. She returned it moments later, explaining that she and Finn had landed a few hours before him and Leia. There’d still been light in the clouds when they’d arrived, and hot food in the mess. She hadn’t taken any, though, and neither had Finn. Sick with worry, they hadn’t been able to stomach more than a few sips of caf. After that, they’d parted for the night. 

“I’m in my room now,” she said, and the crinkle of the mylar bedsheet confirmed it. “You can join me if you like.”

He weighed the merits of pretending he hadn’t guessed as much, of slowing his pace to mask the fact that he was already on the way. 

“Thank you,” he said, forgoing the fib. “I shouldn’t be long. I’ve been pacing.”

She snorted, a burst of bright static. “Pacing, hm? And here I half expected you to be at the door already.”

He flushed, glad she wasn’t present to see it. Was he really that fawning? How humiliating. 

“I’m not that close,” he muttered, swallowing the embarrassment. “But ready the door. I won’t be long.”

A few minutes after signing off, Kylo found himself at her room. As requested, the door was open and he stepped through without ceremony. Rey watched him from bed, feet dangling off the end of it like a child. There was something in her lap-- a thick fabric of some sort-- but it was too balled to properly see. Even if it weren’t, she was hunched over it, swallowing its warmth. Her cloak, maybe.

“Seal it back,” she said, nodding to the pad. “It took me ages to get it this warm.”

Kylo believed it. The heating units in each room were ancient, as likely to catch fire as to function. Rey’s skill with mechanics had served her, and after months of gathering parts she’d managed to restore hers. Still, there was no telling which cough of heat would be the last, and there was no sense being wasteful.

Keying in her code, Kylo locked the door behind him. “How was your flight?”

Rey shrugged. “Smooth, though to be honest neither of us wanted to leave.”

Kylo snorted. He knew the feeling. “The Knights were crowd enough. We'd have only been in the way.”

“Have you heard from them?”

There was an edge of panic in her voice, and Ren regretted not mentioning them sooner.

“They're fine,” he soothed. “All of them. They should be over Belsavis sometime in the morning, though if the storm holds, they might have to hover a while.”

She sighed, relaxing over the bundle in her lap. “They're off-world, at least. That's what matters.”

Kylo hummed, abandoning his place at the keypad. He crossed to where she sat, easing to his knees between her legs. Rey smiled, laughing a little when he brushed a tender spot while working her knees open.

“There's room on the bed,” she teased, but didn't resist his push. She shifted, spreading to accommodate his shoulders. “You don't have to sit at my feet.”

“I like it here.” 

A bit of color tinged her cheeks, but he didn't acknowledge it. He moved in until his chest hit the bed frame, enjoying the slow ebb of heat from her core and thighs. She was warm here, and tender, and he couldn't help but hum when she crossed her ankles behind his back. It was rare for him to feel safe on his knees, especially caged like this, but there was no threat in her.

“You should’ve hung your coat,” he mused, nodding to the bundle she protected. “It’ll wrinkle.”

Her brow creased a moment, then she mouthed a soft oh. Unwrapping her arms, she pulled the fabric free and unraveled it.

“It’s not a coat,” she said, tugging out the corners to stretch it across her lap. “Not even mine at all. Don't you recognize it?”

Scrunched as it'd been, Kylo hadn't. Now, draped across her lap, it was unmistakable. It was the largest and oldest of his blankets, haphazardly stitched in preparation for his first winter on Voss. The stitching was sloppy and uneven, and without proper edging the ends were fraying terribly. Several large swaths had been cut out and replaced over the years, ruined by blood or simply worn through, giving it the look of ugly quilt. It was hideous, but undeniably comfortable, and Kylo's fingers ached to touch.

“When did you have time?” he asked, a little shocked. 

He'd been too busy hauling Hux aboard the General's ship to make a last trip, and had spent the better part of the flight coming to terms with the loss if its contents. Barring sentimentality, there was nothing of real value there; he hadn’t even bothered asking Leia for a minute to go in. Rey, however--

“Before Finn and I took off. I told him to start the ship without me so I could have a last look; when I saw it, I knew I couldn’t leave it.”

Her nose scrunched, and she stroked the fabric over her knees like a pet. It was stained still in places, Kylo noticed with no small amount of embarrassment; pale evidence of their congress. There hadn’t been time to wash it, and with how long it’d sat now it would likely never truly come clean. The woman didn’t seem to mind, however, and let her fingers brush as lovingly over the ruined batches as the rest of it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, throat tight. “I should’ve taken more. Even if we can go back now, there won’t--”

She bit the thought off viciously, her eyes overwet now. She muttered another apology, refusing to meet his gaze, focusing instead on the lazy pattern she traced into the blanket. His heart clenched at the sight and he pressed up, taking her by the chin to guide her face back up.

“It doesn’t matter,” he assured, though it was only half true. The trinkets didn’t matter, certainly, but he doubted he’d ever feel whole on Voss again after seeing the huts destroyed. “It’s nothing; just metal and stone.”

“It was your _home_.” She tore from his grip, looking affronted. “And Anat’s, and Lotti’s; all of theirs. Kish’s shrine was there, and Suu and Finn’s new garden. It’s where we first kissed, where we--”

She broke off again, this time in the wake of a furious blush. Her eyes fell, and she scrubbed anxiously at one of the stains. His release, or hers? Kylo couldn’t be sure, and a low heat crept up his own neck at the thought. This tenderness was still fresh, only carefully strung between them. That she mourned the loss of its center was no surprise. He felt it too: the ache of knowing he’d never see her hair splayed across those pillows again, or the contrast of her skin against the dark blankets. 

Well, not against most of them, at least. She _had_ saved one. Later, perhaps, when the grief was less near, they could enjoy it again.

For now, however, he settled for taking her chin again. She didn’t resist, but was frowning when he coaxed her to face him. He clucked his tongue, and brushed his thumb against her mouth to soften the line. She gave way at that, pressing a kiss to the pad.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m just tired.”

She didn’t need an excuse to be miserable. Still, if it helped her, he wouldn’t press.

“So am I. Can I stay?”

She nodded, then without another word kicked back into bed. He stood as she scrambled back, kicking off his boots and slipping off his heavy tunic. The wall heating unit was working double time, filling the room with a easy, warm glow. If it weren’t for the windowless walls, he could’ve almost forgotten where they were. Almost. This compound was more dreary than Voss could ever be; still, the illusion was thick enough for him to shed a few layers.

Rey had settled by the time he was ready, spread the wide blanket over herself and the cot. She’d nearly disappeared under it, and only her eyes were visible over the edge when she lifted it to invite him beneath. Kylo slipped under quickly, settling beside her between the pillows and sheets. Once he was comfortable, she dropped the corner, swallowing them both in warm, heavy darkness. She sought him in it, reaching out to paw his chest and arms. After finding his edges she scooted in, to slotting flush and pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder He shifted, baring more of his throat, and draped an arm over her waist. 

They laid like that a while: matching their breaths, building heat. Now and then Rey would tilt, run her nose along the line of his throat or kiss his adam’s apple, but there was no intent behind it. No cut of teeth or the pressure of a deepening kiss; nothing but an exchange of heat, an assurance of his solidity. 

“Ben,” she said after a while. He felt it before he heard it: the puff of her breath, the purr of words in her throat. “Can I ask you something?”

He hummed, feeling half asleep already from the creeping in of her warmth. He drew a quick breath, forcing himself to focus. Despite her nerves having ticked down, she sounded nervous still, and squirmed against him a moment before continuing.

“Do you think we can do it? Really, I mean.” Her nails caught on the thin fabric of his undershirt. “Or do you think we’ll be doing this forever?”

By this, she meant retreating: slithering back into their recess like beasts, running from an insatiable adversary. He didn’t respond immediately, unsure of what to say. He didn’t know himself whether they could win or not; had spent the time since Nadeen’s refusal being sick over it. But saying that wouldn’t help Rey sleep. 

“Leia thinks we can,” he settled on. “So does Finn, and Poe.” He settled deeper into the bed, tightening his arm around her waist. “The Knights don’t speak of it much, but Anat, at least, seems to think so.”

“And the others?”

“They think it’s worth the risk, regardless. And so do I.”

He felt her still against him finally. “Really?”

He nodded, chin bumping the top of her head. Something teased the edge of his thoughts: the familiar, vibrant encroach of her slipping in, trying to tease out a lie. He let her search, sure to keep himself open and welcoming. He hadn’t lied, after all. He didn’t know if what she hoped for was possible, but that didn’t particularly matter just now. What mattered was that there were scores of others-- not just himself and their friends-- willing to press on, despite how disastrous the day had been.

She receded, settling back into her own mind. “Good,” she whispered, more to herself than anything. “That’s good to hear.” Beat of silence, broken only by her slow exhale; her body relaxing against his once more. “We should sleep. Debriefing is going to be a nightmare.”

Kylo didn’t doubt that. He agreed, and after bidding her goodnight kissed the soft crown of her head. It smelled still of sweetgrass, and the clear, springwater. The scent permeated, melding with the sweet, sweat stickiness of the blanket. It smelled of Voss, of home.

He shifted, drawing her tighter in, and let the comfort sink him down to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a fan of open, hopeful endings, and I'm super hoping y'all are too.
> 
> Thanks again for being such lovely readers. I hope to see all of you in the future!!


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